MARKED 


aste 


H 
• 


.S 
PACIFIC 


Jftorg  of 


"And  therefore  as  a  stranger  give  it  welcome, 
There  are  more  things  in  Heaven  and  earth, 
Horatio,  than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy." 

HAMLET,  Act  i,  Scene  v. 


^  NEW   YORK  : 

TROWS    PRINTING    AND    BOOKBINDING    CO., 

201-213  EAST  TWELFTH   STREET. 
1883. 


COPYRIGHT,   1883,  BY 
TROW" s  PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  Co. 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  THE 
KIND  FRIEND  AND  PHILANTHROPIST 

WHO  EARLY   AIDED   AND  ENCOURAGED   THE  AUTHOR, 

THIS  SOUVENIR  OF  HER  FIRST  YEARS  IN  PARIS, 

IS    AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED. 


2212587 


PREFACE. 


IN  looking  over  an  old  diary,  I  have  stumbled  upon 
some  curious  notes,  odds  and  ends  here  and  there, 
relating  mostly  to  the  American  Colony  resident  in 
Paris  during  the  years  inclusive  of  1874  and  1879. 
The  actors  are  still  living ;  why  should  my  notes 
alone  remain  in  oblivion  ? 

The  greatest  artists  study  only  from  nature.  How 
can  an  humble  pen-portraitist  hope  to  succeed  other- 
wise than  by  following  in  their  footsteps?  In  a 
study  of  real  life,  creations  of  imagination  are  not 
unlike  copies  of  great  originals.  Seeming  fidelity  to 
nature  but  distorts  the  mental  vision  and  accustoms 
it  only  to  imperfections. 

Without  malice,  perhaps  without  art,  I  have  dared 
to  study  from  "  the  nude  model."  Laying  aside  the 
hypercritical  allusion  to  Art  and  great  masters,  we 
might  say,  in  more  homely  English,  that  one  should 
never  spoil  a  story  for  relations'  sake. 

My  chief  solicitude  has  been  to  present  faithful 


vi  Preface. 

rather  than  flattering  likenesses.  As  photograph- 
ers say,  "  some  negatives  are  so  strong  that  one  does 
not  even  need  sunlight  to  print  clear  pictures." 

In  speaking  of  historical  places,  simple  fidelity  has 
been  aimed  at.  Chateau  Ferrieres  is  well  known,  and 
to  the  courtesy  of  the  distinguished  Barons  Roths- 
child many  owe  the  pleasure  of  having  seen  one  of 
the  remarkable  palaces  of  the  world. 

The  description  of  the  interior  of  Beaufort  Castle, 
with  its  superb  and  unique  works  of  art,  is  a  person- 
al recollection  of  the  Marquis  Pallavicini's  country 
seat,  about  two  hours  distant  from  Cremona,  Italy. 
Count  Andre  may  still  retain  his  incognito.  It  would 
not  be  difficult,  however,  for  the  connoisseur  to  say 
who  had  the  most  beautiful  house  in  Paris,  or  the 
most  complete  private  collection  of  works  of  art  on 
the  continent. 

So  the  banquet  is  spread.  To  those  who  tire  of  too 
much  cheer  remember  that,  with  Macbeth,  "our- 
self  will  mingle  with  society  and  play  the  humble 
host." 

NEW  YORK,  March,  1883. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

Lord  Beaufort  writes  to  his  Cousin,  Athol  Brandon i 

CHAPTER   II. 
The  Same  to  the  Same 9 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Same  to  the  Same 18 

CHAPTER   IV. 
The  Same  to  the  Same 28 

CHAPTER    V. 
The  Same  to  the  Same 33 

CHAPTER   VI. 
Athol  Brandon  to  Lord  Beaufort 38 

CHAPTER   VII. 
Portraits  of  two  Young  Men 45 


viii  Contents. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

PAGE 

Sunday  in  Paris 54 

CHAPTER   IX. 
Dining  at  the  "  Anglais" 62 

CHAPTER    X. 
An  Englishman  Describes  American  Cities 71 

CHAPTER   XI. 
"  O  the  Smell  of  that  Jasmine  Flower  " 82 

CHAPTER   XII. 
Ethel  Leslie 88 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
A  Moonlight  Drive 99 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
America 113 

CHAPTER   XV. 
"  Masks  and  Faces  " 1 32 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
Love 149 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
Breakfast  at  the  Count's 164 


Contents.  ix 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

PAGE 

Man  and  Woman 175 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
Tea  with  Mrs.  Adrian 190 

CHAPTER   XX. 
Breakfast  at  Lagny 201 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
The  Visit  to  Ferrieres 210 

CHAPTER   XXII. 
At  the  Opera 226 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
Brandon's  Discovery 241 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 
Soiree  at  Mrs.  Adrian's 246 

CHAPTER   XXV. 
Friendship 260 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 
"  Marked  in  Hatte  " 272 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 
Farewell  For  Ever 282 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 
What  came  of  a  "  Musicale  " 300 


x  Contents. 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 
Shanklin-Chine 


CHAPTER   XXX. 
The  Old,  Old  Story  .....................................  33° 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 

Sea-Bathing  ............................................  341 

i 
CHAPTER   XXXII. 

Lord  Beaufort  to  his  Mother  .............................   352 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
Ethel  Beaufort  to  Mrs.  Adrian  ............................  355 


MARKED  "IN  HASTE." 


CHAPTER  I. 

LORD   BEAUFORT   TO   HIS   COUSIN,    ATHOL   BRANDON. 

November  i,  1876. 
MY  DEAR  ATHOL  : 

You  will  scarcely  expect  a  letter  from  me  so 
soon  ;  but  the  truth  is  that  I  must  unburden  my 
heart  to  some  one  :  to  whom  better  than  yourself? 
Do  not  take  this  as  an  equivocal  compliment.  You 
well  know  that  I  confide  almost  everything  to  you, 
and  I  fancy  that  even  the  word  "  almost  "  is  out  of 
place.  I  am  about  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  every- 
thing that  has  happened  since  I  left  dear,  perfidious 
Albion — a  clean  breast,  my  dear  boy,  nothing  more 
nor  less  ;  so  prepare  yourself  with  copious  draughts 
of  the  vulgar  B.  and  S.  and  listen  to.  my  tale.  The 
Tidal  from  Folkestone  brought  us  in  at  an  unearthly 
hour,  and  through  some  mischance  my  engagement 
to  dine  at  the  Embassy  quite  miscarried.  (Of  course 
I  refer  to  yesterday.)  I  took  some  tea,  and  decided 
on  a  long  tramp  in  the  direction  of  the  Bois. 

Dressed  in  my  travelling  costume,  I  scarcely  cared 


2  Marked  "In  Haste." 

to  meet  any  of  my  lady  friends.  I  hear  that  Paris 
is  full  of  dames  Anglaises ;  and  who  knows  but  the 
first  rencontre  would  have  been  the  very  one  that  I 
wished  to  avoid  ?  One  feels  so  seedy  and  miserable 
after  even  a  few  hours  in  a  railway  carriage.  Consid- 
ering that  the  channel  was  unusually  disagreeable,  I 
had  anything  but  a  comfortable  trip.  Some  days  one 
feels  all  upset,  without  knowing  why  ;  and  I  think  yes- 
terday was  one  of  those  days.  As  I  say,  I  started  for 
the  Bois,  and  chose  (be  it  said  to  my  credit)  un- 
conventional paths,  so  that  I  saw  but  few  of  my 
countrymen  and  women.  I  felt  in  so  savage  a  mood 
that,  as  my  American  friend  Weldon  remarked,  I 
"  could  bite  a  tenpenny  nail  in  two."  After  going  as 
far  as  Longchamps,  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
decided  me  upon  returning  to  Paris. 

What  a  disgusting  sight  the  Bois  is,  to  be  sure, 
with  the  same  old  tawdry  and  painted  faces,  the  same 
horrid  traps,  miserable  hacks,  fagged  demi-mondaines 
and  the  vulgar  equipages  of  the  parvenues  who  never 
miss  the  tour  de  lac.  Back  and  forth,  back  and 
forth :  first  a  grand  bow  of  recognition ;  then  a 
malicious  little  salute  ;  next  a  friendly  wave  of  the 
hand  ;  and  so  on.  They  say  that  the  days  of  the 
tour  de  lac  are  on  the  wane,  and  that  the  Avenue 
des  Acacias  will  be  the  resort  for  the  ladies.  Thank 
God !  Those  poor  unclassed  saints,  who  have  a 
husband's  name  but  neither  his  heart  nor  money, 
will  have  some  place  to  promenade  where  the 
flaunting  liveries  of  the  pro  tem.s  cannot  have  right 
of  way.  When  that  day  comes  my  dear  mother 
shall  go  about  in  Paris  as  much  as  she  likes  ;  but 


Marked  "In  Haste."  3 

for  the  present,  a  lady  is  out  of  place  in  an  after- 
noon drive  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  In  unfashion- 
able routes  if  she  likes  ;  but  no  tour  of  the  lake  !  I 
had  barely  reached  the  Arc  du  Triomphe  when  I 
met  Lanesborough.  He  is  as  much  of  a  cad  as 
ever,  and  was  about  to  sicken  me  with  some  new 
tale  of  his  conquests,  when  I  bolted.  I  suppose  he  is 
still  at  the  top  of  the  Avenue,  and  in  a  state  of  com- 
fortable distress  at  my  sudden  apparition  and  dis- 
appearance. Heaven  bless  him  !  I  was  too  ill-hu- 
mored to  think  of  any  one  but  myself. 

Now  to  unburden  myself.  I  presume  you  have  for-, 
gotten  that  I  commenced  this  letter  with  an  object 
in  view — an  object  other  than  the  one  of  merely 
writing  to  my  best  friend.  Said  object  is  to  relate  a 
bona  fide  adventure,  and  one  that  promises  me  the 
loss  of  that  already  blast  organ — a  heart.  After 
leaving  Lanesborough,  I  walked  swiftly  down  the 
Champs  Elysees.  Just  before  reaching  the  Round 
Point  I  stumbled  on  a  letter,  or  evidently  a  package 
of  letters,  enclosed  in  a  yellow  envelope  and  ad- 
dressed to  Mile.  Ethel  Leslie,  Avenue  Matignon, 
No.  406.  The  envelope  was  stamped  with  the  seal 
of  the  United  States  Legation,  and  marked  "  In 
Haste" — or  as  it  read  in  French,  "Press/."  Nat- 
urally, I  looked  at  the  package  several  times,  and, 
as  it  was  about  twilight,  I  decided  on  leaving  it  my- 
self at  the  given  address.  You  know,  my  dear  fel- 
low, I  am  scrupulous  with  regard  to  letters.  Who 
knew  the  value  of  this  one,  or  the  distress  its  loss 
might  occasion  ?  I  found  myself  re-reading  the 
name,  "  Ethel  Leslie,"  and  wondering  who  could  be 


4  Marked  "In  Haste" 

the  owner  of  so  romantic  a  cognomen.  Was  she 
young  ?  Was  she  handsome  ?  Was  she  maid  or 
widow  ?  Was  she — in  fact,  what  was  she  ?  And  how 
on  earth  did  a  package  of  letters  come  to  be  lying 
unnoticed  at  this  hour  of  the  day  in  so  favorite  a 
walk  as  the  Champs  Elysees  ? 

Thus  ruminating  I  reached  Avenue  Matignon. 
These  October  days  are  already  so  short,  that  when  I 
arrived  at  the  house  it  was  time  to  light  the  street 
lamps.  The  enormous  porte  cochere  was  closed,  but 
in  answer  to  my  ring  it  was  opened,  and  I  found 
myself  face  to  face  with  madam  the  concierge.  I 
inquired  for  Mademoiselle  Leslie,  said  I  had  a  letter 
for  her  (showing  the  envelope),  and  was  about  to 
give  it  to  the  woman,  when  she  smilingly  refused  to 
take  it,  saying  : 

"  Go  right  up.     Monsieur  is  expected." 

I  expostulated  ;  she  remained  firm.  "  I  was  to  go 
up  ;  Mademoiselle  was  waiting,"  she  added,  as  she 
deliberately  put  two  fat  paws  behind  her,  and  with  a 
coquettish,  seventy-odd-years  giggle  (great  heavens  ! 
when  will  these  French  daughters  of  Eve  cease  to 
be  giddy  !),  refused  to  touch  the  parcel,  and  turned 
away  with  a  knowing  look,  saying  : 

"  Entresol  to  the  left." 

Entresol  to  the  left  be  hanged  !  I  had  not  bar- 
gained for  so  much.  The  words  "Expected,"  "go 
right  up,"  and  the  last  tuppenny-ha'penny  mali- 
cious look  was  too  much  for  my  curiosity.  What 
could  the  woman  mean  ?  Evidently  some  one  was 
expected  with  letters  ;  and  I  might  as  well  represent 
that  some  one  as  anybody  else.  Determined  to  leave 


Marked  "In  Haste."  5 

that  envelope,  if  possible,  in  responsible  hands,  I 
mounted  and  rang  at  the  entresol  to  the  left. 

A  smiling  maid  opened  the  door.  Before  I  could 
speak  she  gave  me  a  look  all  intelligence,  and  said 
quickly : 

"  Follow  me,"  at  the  same  time  dragging  me  in- 
side the  entrance  and  closing  the  door  softly  and 
rapidly.  I  seized  her  shoulder. 

"Mademoiselle,"  I  said  determinedly,  "I  am  not 
the  person  you  think.  I  have  some  letters  for  a  Miss 
Ethel  Leslie,  which  I  found " 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  interrupted  vivaciously.  "  I  know 
all  you  would  say,  but  it  is  useless  talking  with 
me.  My  mistress  has  been  waiting  new  nearly  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  she  gave  orders  that  the  let- 
ters were  to  be  delivered  into  her  own  hands  by  the 
person  who  brought  them.  It's  as  much  as  my  place 
is  worth  to  disobey  her,  so  follow  me." 

My  dear  boy,  what  could  I  do  ?  I  had  to  fol- 
low her,  of  course,  and  at  the  same  time  I  felt  a  bit 
curious  to  see  the  lady  in  question.  "  Ethel  Leslie  ; " 
a  deuced  pretty  name  ;  and  why  not  owned  by  a 
deuced  pretty  woman  ?  I  was  in  a  way  soon  to  know. 
The  maid  (who  tried  to  touch  my  hand  as  we  came 
to  an  obscure  passage)  was  as  lively  as  an  Italian 
lizard.  What  did  she  take  me  for,  I  wonder  ?  We 
finally  stopped  before  an  open  portiere  of  gobelin, 
and  I  was  told  to  enter. 

A  slight  figure  in  gray  was  bending  over  some 
papers  at  a  writing-desk,  and,  without  raising  her 
eyes  at  the  maid's  explanation,  she  extended  her 
hand  to  take  the  letters.  At  last  I  commenced  to 


6  Marked  "In  Haste" 

breathe  freely.  I  had  gotten  rid  of  my  unexpected 
encumbrance.  Thinking  this  a  good  time  to  slip  off, 
I  hastily  said  : 

"A  votre  disposition,  mademoiselle  ! "  and  started  to 
go.  Her  words  paralyzed  me. 

"You  may  as  well  wait  here,"  she  said  with  a 
soft  voice.  "  I  shall  be  ready  in  two  minutes^ and  the 
carriage  is  already  announced.  Let  me  put  away 
these  papers  and  finish  reading  the  letter  you  just 
brought  me." 

Oh,  fatal  chance  !  That  was  the  moment  in  which 
I  should  have  explained  my  position,  and  how  I 
happened  to  find  myself  in  her  house  the  bearer  of  a 
parcel  evidently  of  some  value,  and  to  offer  my 
excuses  for  being  unable  to  serve  her  further.  Can 
you  imagine  why  I  did  not  ?  Read  back  and  stop  at 
the  line  where  I  tell  you  that  "  without  raising  her 
eyes  she  extended  her  hand,"  etc.,  etc.  Those  words 
explain  all  my  weakness.  I  could  not  go  without 
seeing  her  face,  and  I  felt  that  she  must  be  beauti- 
ful. The  'room,  or  boudoir,  was  rich  in  harmonious 
colors,  but  it  was  so  dark  that  one  could  scarcely 
distinguish  any  object.  While  I  was  thinking  on  my 
strange  situation,  the  lady  spoke.  Her  voice  was 
still  charming,  but  the  words  were  more  authorita- 
tive. 

"The  reference  you  bring,"  said  she,  "is  perfect ; 
and  above  all  am  I  pleased  to  learn  that  your  cir- 
cumstances have  thrown  you  among  people  of  posi- 
tion. You  will  better  understand  a  lady,  and  the 
delicate  service  she  may  require  at  your  hands.  It 
is  understood  that  the  greatest  secrecy  is  exacted  ; 


Marked  "In  Haste."  7 

and  twice  a  week  I  shall  expect  you  here  at  this 
hour."  Abruptly,  "  Do  you  speak  English  ? " 

At  these  words  she  raised  her  eyes.  The  maid 
had  gone  out,  and  we  were  alone  in  the  room. 
Before  she  finished  I  turned  the  collar  of  my  coat 
up.  I  had  drawn  from  my  pocket  a  tourist's  pair 
of  smoked  glasses,  and  was  deliberately  adjusting 
them  when  she  looked  at  me.  You  will  wonder  at 
these  precautions.  I  was  evidently  mistaken  for  a 
guide  or  confidential  attendant  to  a  young  and 
charming  woman.  The  circumstances  were  full  of 
mystery,  and  I  longed  to  fill  my  empty  life  with  some 
real  excitement.  I  would  be  the  guide — I  would  be 
a  valet,  if  necessary,  two  evenings  in  the  week  ;  and 
I  would,  in  short,  forget  Jthat  I  was  Francis,  Earl 
of  Beaufort,  while  following  up  an  adventure  that 
promised  its  disentanglement  in  some  delightful  Pa- 
risian love  affair.  Was  it  a  love  affair  ?  of  course. 
Was  it  Parisian  ?  something  whispered,  "  No."  The 
letters  came  from  the  United  States  Legation,  the 

name  was  Leslie,  and  the  lady  was an  American. 

Of  that  I  was  now  quite  certain. 

While  these  thoughts  flashed  through  my  mind, 
the  maid  entered  with  a  lamp,  and  I  saw  fully  for 
the  first  time  my  new  mistress.  Her  beauty  was  so 
much  more  than  I  had  anticipated,  that  my  eyes 
riveted  to  her  countenance.  I  had  hoped  to  see  a 
pretty  woman,  but  scarcely  expected  to  find  myself 
in  the  presence  of  the  most  beautiful  one  that  I  or 
anybody  else  had  ever  seen.  I  cannot  describe  her  to 
you  at  present ;  but  I  know  that  no  face  could  be  more 
lovely  than  hers.  She  must  have  thought  me  stupid, 


8  Marked  "fn  Haste" 

for  she  hastily  repeated  her  question,  asking  if  I 
spoke  English,  the  while  looking  me  over  quite  de- 
liberately. Fortunately  my  costume,  my  glasses,  and 
the  half-shadow  that  obscured  my  person  were  more 
than  enough  to  mask  my  real  identity  (I  feared  I 
might  look  like  a  gentleman  even  in  an  uncertain 
light),  and  she  must  have  been  satisfied  with  her 
scrutiny,  for  as  I  answered  "  Yes  "  she  uttered  a  little 
"Ah!"  and  coldly  turned  away  her  head,  giving 
some  order,  in  an  undertone,  to  the  maid. 

I  breathed  freely  when  her  splendid  eyes  were 
no  longer  scanning  my  face,  and,  instead  of  feeling 
ashamed  of  my  false  position,  was  more  determined 
than  ever  to  see  the  end  of  so  curious  an  adventure. 
She  arose  with  a  graceful  movement  of  the  body  that 
an  Andalusian  herself  might  have  envied.  Taking 
the  letters,  a  small  parcel,  and  some  keys,  she  an- 
nounced her  readiness  to  start.  Start  ?  yes  ;  but 
where  to  go  ?  She  passed  in  front  of  me,  the  maid 
at  her  heels,  and  I  followed.  At  the  foot  of  the 
staircase  a  decent  valet  stood  waiting.  He  opened 
the  door,  and  I  saw  a  brougham  with  a  capital  pair 
of  thoroughbreds  evidently  awaiting  the  lady's 
pleasure.  I  handed  her  in,  she  motioned  me  to  the 
small  seat  vis-a-vis,  and  we  drove  off. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   SAME   TO    THE   SAME. 

November  2d. 

Other  than  the  first  few  words  she  had  not  ad- 
dressed me  ;  and  I  wondered  what  was  the  delicate 
service  so  regularly  to  be  required.  She  leaned  back 
in  a  corner  of  the  carriage  with  her  hands  firmly  clasp- 
ing the  letter.  Her  face  was  so  clouded  with  thought 
that  she  seemed  to  ignore  even  my  presence.  We 
rolled  along  in  silence.  Night  was  fast  falling  upon 
Paris.  I  saw  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  already  aglow 
with  its  myriad  lights.  The  gardens  of  the  Tuileries, 
with  the  orange  trees  whose  blossoms  fair  fiancees 
covet,  lay  a  dark  mass  to  the  left.  Passing  swiftly 
by,  we  turned  into  the  quay  that  flanks  the  right  of 
the  famous  Palace.  The  Seine,  with  here  and  there 
an  illuminated  wave,  glided  on  in  enchanting  soft- 
ness. The  skies  gave  promise  of  a  night  of  starry 
splendor.  The  low  rumble  of  the  carriage  on  the 
asphalt  harmonized  at  will  with  the  gentleness  sur- 
rounding the  hour.  At  that  time  few,  if  any,  vehicles 
were  visible.  Paris  was  dining,  and  I — I  had  had 
no  dinner.  Imagine,  my  dear  Athol,  how  great  an 
Englishman's  distraction  must  be  when  he  absolutely 


10  Marked  "In  Haste" 

ignores  the  object  of  one  of  Owen  Meredith's  finest 
outbursts  !     What  are  the  lines  ?     Let  me  see  : 

"  We  may  live  without  poetry,  music,  and  art, 
We  may  live  without  conscience,  we  may  live  without  heart ; 
We  may  live  without  friends,  we  may  live  without  books — 
But  civilized  man  may  not  live  without  cooks. 
He  may  live  without  books — what  is  knowledge  but  grieving  ? 
He  may  live  without  hope — what  is  hope  but  deceiving  ? 
He  may  live  without  love — what  is  passion  but  pining? 
But  where  is  the  man  who  may  live  without  dining  ! " 

Well,  in  spite  of  Meredith,  I  thought  of  anything 
else  at  that  moment.  I  was  alone  in  a  carriage 
with  an  unknown  and  beautiful  girl  when  the  busy 
world  was  occupied,  for  once,  with  its  own  affairs. 
This  was  the  one  thought  that  possessed  me.  I  tried 
to  feel  a  reasonable  sense  of  shame  at  my  equivocal 
position,  but  alas  !  I  could  only  realize  the  one  fact 
that  the  charm  of  my  position  was  undeniable.  I 
adore  beauty,  and  was  drawn  toward  Miss  Leslie. 
Her  face  was  one  of  incomparable  innocence,  with  a 
tone  of  sadness  and  mystery  that  would  have  in- 
terested the  most  insensible  ;  and  even  with  all  of  my 
habitual  indifference,  I  yielded  at  once  to  the  fas- 
cination of  her  presence.  At  last  she  spoke.  We 
had  crossed  the  bridge  Henri  Quatre,  and  were  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Seine.  As  the  carriage  went 
swiftly  on,  I  recognized  the  students',  or  Latin 
Quarter,  and  could  not  but  wonder  where  we  were 
going.  She  said  : 

"  I  am  obliged  to  visit  in  secret  one  who  is  very 
dear  to  me,  and  whose  existence  in  Paris  is  un- 
known even  to  my  best  friends.  I  may  not  need 


Marked  "In  Haste."  II 

your  assistance,  but  it  is  not  well  for  a  young  lady 
to  go  about  the  streets  alone.  Your  only  duty  will 
be  to  accompany  me  back  and  forth  in  these  noc- 
turnal visits.  Your  arm  must  be  ready  for  my  de- 
fence should  I  need  it ;  you  will  yield  a  blind  obe- 
dience to  anything  I  ask  in  reason,  and  beyond  the 
days  devoted  to  my  service  you  will  not  only  be 
at  liberty,  but  will  please  forget  your  employment. 
Should  we  meet,  never  under  any  circumstances 
recognize  your  employer.  I  cannot  tell  how  long  I 
may  need  you — I  trust  a  short  time,  but  certainly  for 
several  weeks.  Be  silent  and  unobserving,  and  your 
remuneration  shall  be  satisfactory." 

She  looked  me  in  the  face  with  such  intelligence 
and  fearlessness  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  must  read 
me  through  and  through.  God  forbid  !  She  ceased 
speaking,  and  I  felt  a  momentary  impulse  to  tell 
her  who  I  was  and  the  mistaken  position  that  my 
curiosity  had  placed  me  in.  It  was  not  too  late. 
She  might  forgive  me.  I  was  a  gentleman,  and  ready 
to  serve  her  well — aye,  a  thousand  times  better  than 
any  hireling,  and  to  shiver  a  lance  in  her  defence 
with  all  the  fervor  of  a  medieval  knight.  Then  I 
thought,  "  How  will  she  receive  my  apology  and 
explanation  ?  Will  she  believe  me  ?  and  has  my  con- 
duct aught  in  common  with  knight  or  gentleman?" 
A  little  good  common  sense  at  this  moment  came 
to  my  aid.  Then  it  was  impossible  to  recede.  I 
might  frighten  her,  and  I  might  become  entangled 
in  some  legal  scandal.  The  thing  was  to  play  my 
part  through  to  the  end  that  evening,  and  on  the 
morrow  to  write  any  excuse,  withdrawing  my  accept- 


12  Marked  "fn  Haste" 

ance  of  the  position  she  offered.  I  would  decide 
that  night  whether  I  should  leave  her  in  ignorance 
of  the  real  state  of  things  and  plead  sudden  depar- 
ture as  the  cause  of  my  absence,  or,  putting  aside 
my  own  feelings,  make  a  clean  breast  of  my  con- 
nection with  her  affairs — how  I  found  the  letter, 
and  how,  thinking  to  innocently  discover  some 
French  affaire  de  cotur,  I  had  become  the  sharer  of 
a  secret  of  no  little  gravity.  Fate  decided  that  I 
should  keep  silence. 

By  this  time  we  had  gotten  far  beyond  the  river, 
and  while  I  was  still  thinking  and  turning  over  in  my 
mind  what  the  evening  would  bring  forth,  we  drew 
up  quite  abruptly,  in  Rue  des  Sts.  Peres,  before  an  old- 
fashioned  stone  house.  My  companion  lowered  her 
veil,  said  "  We  get  out  here,"  and  motioned  me  to 
alight.  I  was  already  in  the  act,  and  offering  my 
hand  ;  she  wras  soon  standing  beside  me.  I  turned  to 
ring  at  the  door  in  front  of  us,  when  she  took  my 
arm  hastily. 

"It  is  not  here,"  she  explained  ;  "we  must  now 
turn  into  another  street."  And  we  walked  on.  After 
leaving  the  house  in  Rue  des  Sts.  Peres,  she  suddenly 
stopped  at  the  second  crossing  and  turned  to  the 
right.  I  felt  her  hand  tremble  on  my  arm ;  but  a 
moment  later,  abruptly  disengaging  it,  she  rang  at 
No.  7,  passage  des  Sts.  Peres.  The  door  opened,  and 
she  passed  quickly  in  and  ascended  a  flight  of  dirty 
stone  stairs,  I,  of  course,  following.  The  janitress, 
a  grim  woman  about  as  ancient  as  the  house,  nod- 
ded a  little  "good  evening"  as  we  passed,  and  be- 
yond that  nothing.  Mile.  Leslie  kept  going  up 


Marked  "In  Haste."  13 

— one,  two,  three,  four — yes,  five  flights,  before  she 
stopped. 

As  she  stood  with  her  foot  on  the  last  step  she 
turned  to  me,  and  I  was  amazed  at  the  expression  of 
her  face.  It  was  hard,  determined,  and  pale,  while 
her  eyes  blazed  with  a  steady  flame.  She  placed  her 
hand  on  my  arm  a  la  rJgence,  bidding  me  wait  for 
her  in  the  passage,  at  the  same  time  pointing  out 
to  me  an  old  chair  that  stood  against  the  musty 
wall.  She  then  rapped  at  a  door  to  the  left  of  the 
staircase.  It  opened  quickly.  A  dark -browed  young 
man  eagerly  seized  her  hand,  and  the  words,  "  Ah, 
darling,  thank  heaven  you  have  come  ! "  were  fol- 
lowed by  a  hasty  embrace  as  the  door  closed  upon 
their  retreating  forms. 

Can  you  imagine  my  surprise  ?  I  think  not. 
Who  was  the  young  man  ?  In  what  relation  did  she 
stand  toward  him  ?  Why  a  secret  visit  at  night  ?  And 
why  all  this  mystery  ?  I  am  no  fool,  Athol,  but  you 
will  surely  think  me  one  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
waited  two  mortal  hours  in  the  vile  passage  of  a 
sixth  floor  Parisian  tenement — and  all  for  what  ? 
To  see  a  beautiful  woman  throw  herself  into  the 
arms  of  a  dark  young  man  ;  to  hear  half-whispered 
words  of  love,  with  incessant  murmurings,  coming 
through  the  illy  closed  door,  and  to  find  myself  get- 
ting each  moment  more  desperately  interested  in  a 
pair  of  heavenly  eyes  that  beamed  from  a  face  the 
Virgin  Mary  herself  might  have  envied.  I  could 
think  of  nothing  but  the  strangeness  of  my  position, 
and,  man  of  the  world  as  I  am,  I  did  not  yet  wholly 
consider  the  enormous  triviality  of  my  conduct. 


14  Marked  "In  Haste" 

Prying  into  other's  secrets  is  one  thing,  becoming 
enamoured  of  a  woman  who  has  a  secret  is  another. 
I  was  doing  the  one,  I  was  in  a  fair  way  of  accom- 
plishing the  other — I,  who  have  sworn  never  to  love 
a  woman  with  a  secret ! 

Love  !  I  was  far  from  being  in  love,  but  I  was 
far  from  feeling  wholly  indifferent  to  this  girl's  fate. 
I  am  nearly  at  the  end  of  this  long  letter.  My  two 
hours  ended,  she  came  forth  from  the  chamber,  her 
face  tear-stained  and  pale.  "  We  return  to  Avenue 
Matignon,"  she  said,  quietly.  "You  have  waited 
long.  Let  us  go  at  once." 

Impossible  to  tell  you  my  feelings  as  we  wended 
our  way  homeward.  The  sky  was  resplendent  with 
stars,  the  soft  night  air  crept  into  the  carriage,  and 
my  lady,  a  pale,  inert  figure  in  her  robe  of  carmelite 
gray,  lay  back  against  the  carriage  cushions.  She 
never  spoke,  and  I — well,  little  thought  had  I  of 
breaking  the  stillness.  She  is  beautiful,  and  I  am 
very  unhappy.  To-morrow  she  shall  know  all.  I  will 
write,  and  she  can  read  what  I  dare  not  tell  her.  I 
feel  that  she  is  my  fate,  and  that,  innocently  or  not, 

I  am  bound  to  follow  her  lead. 
******** 

What  have  I  written  ?  Of  course  I  shall  do  noth- 
ing of  the  sort.  I  have  just  read  over  these  last 
lines.  Pray  forgive  me  !  Quite  useless  my  erasing — 
it  would  blot  my  page,  and  the  words  have  no  earthly 
value.  I  say,  "  I  shall  write  to-morrow."  The  to- 
morrow has  already  passed,  and  I  have  not  written. 
Perhaps  later  I  may — mind,  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  may — 
indite  the  explanatory  letter.  We  reached  the  Avenue 


Marked  "/«  Haste,"1  15 

Matignori.     She  never  spoke  until  just  as  we  left  the 
brougham. 

"  Good  night,"  said  she,  "  and  thanks.  Thursday, 
at  the  same  hour,  I  shall  await  you."  That  was  all.  I 
took  my  last  look  at  her  face  (for  I  hope  I  shall  never 
see  her  again)  and — and — so  far  this  is  the  end  of  my 
adventure.  No,  I  have  forgotten  something.  As  she 
left  she  turned  and  asked  my  name.  I  was  stag- 
gered, but  quickly  gave  her  the  first  one  that  came 
into  my  mind,  which  I  prefixed  with  my  own — "  Fran- 
cois Feiden."  "  And  the  address  ?  I  may  need  you." 
"  Maurice's  Hotel,  Rue  de  Rivoli,"  I  responded,  lift- 
ing my  hat.  She  stopped  short,  as  if  considering 
how  a  poor  devil  of  a  guide  could  live  in  so  swell  an 
hotel,  then  said,  "  It  is  well,"  and  vanished.  Now, 
you  see,  I  am  quite  compromised.  Heaven  knows 
how  it  will  all  end.  I  have  already  taken  some  pre- 
cautions. Anything  sent  to  Francois  Feiden  will  be 
brought  to  my  room.  I  have  explained  that  he  is  a 
confidential  servant  of  the  family,  and  in  Paris  at 
present.  I  am  haunted  by  Miss  Leslie's  face,  but 
hope  I  shall  have  the  courage  not  to  go  again  to  the 
Avenue  Matignon.  Still,  if  I  should  attempt  to  see 
her,  and  the  real  bearer  of  the  letter  in  the  meantime 
had  turned  up  !  I  will  simply  explain  that,  being 
in  need  of  employment,  I  accepted  what  a  kind  for- 
tune threw  in  my  way  !  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the 
more  I  am  convinced  that  I  must  not  disclose  my 
real  name,  as  at  this  cold-blooded  hour  (four  P.M.) 
I  am  amazed  at  what  I  have  done.  Without  night's 
entrancing  and  mysterious  charm,  I  find  that  day- 
light cools  my  late  enthusiasm.  Were  it  always 


1 6  Marked  "In  Haste." 

high  noon,  not  one  man  in  a  million  would  make  an 
ass  of  himself.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  order  of 
things  will  change.  I  had  already  a  great  grudge 
against  night,  yet  would  not  for  worlds  blot  yester- 
een  out  of  existence. 

By  Jove  !  do  you  know  what  yesterday  was  ? 
The  thirty-first  of  October,  and  last  night  All  Hal- 
lows' Eve.  Surely  it  was  to  meet  my  fate  I  came  to 
Paris  ;  and  although  anything  but  superstitious,  I 
bow  to  mystic  destiny.  Pray  think  of  me  as  belong- 
ing to  another,  for  the  fact  of  my  adventure  having 
taken  place  on  that  date,  of  all  days  in  the  year, 
knocks  all  other  calculations  on  the  head.  No  Eng- 
lishman in  his  right  mind  could  deliberately  ignore 
the  most  potent  of  all  legends  in  the  Scottish  calen- 
dar. The  hardest  heart  softens  in  memory  of  de- 
lightful moments  passed  waiting  to  see  your  "future 
fate  "  on  the  cellar  stairs,  or  groping  about  an  unfre- 
quented portrait  gallery  with  a  lighted  candle  your 
companion,  and  a'  hand-mirror  the  sole  sharer  of 
the  secret.  My  "  future  fate  "  has  been  seen  in 
my  late  adventure.  The  cellar  stairs  had  a  decided 
upward,  instead  of  a  downward,  tendency — five 
flights,  each  one  harder  to  climb  than  the  other.  But 
let  me  leave  the  subject,  otherwise  I  shall  recapitu- 
late the  whole,  and  even  your  great  patience  might 
rebel.  Bell  has  just  told  Lanesborough  that  he  will 
"see  if  I  am  at  home."  For  pure  asinine  qualities 
recommend  to  me  the  ordinary  valet.  Of  all  things, 
to  be  disturbed  at  this  moment !  However,  I  suppose 
I  must  see  him.  To-morrow  I  shall  write  you  again, 
but  do  not  think  (even  if  the  idea  come  into  your 


Marked  "In  Haste"  17 

mind)  to  dissuade  me  from  seeing  the  legitimate  end 
of  my  adventure.  This  is  the  first  of  November, 
1876,  and  I  met  my  fate  last  night — All  Hallows' 
Eve,  the  thirty-first  of  October.  Not  a  word  to 
any  one  of  this  ;  above  all,  do  not  let  my  lady  mother 
know  I  have  written. 

Always  the  same, 

BEAUFORT. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   SAME   TO   THE   SAME. 

X 

November  4th — midnight. 

I  returned  from  Rue  des  Sts.  Peres  two  hours  since, 
so  you  see  that  I  have  followed  my  first  and  ulti- 
mate inspiration.  I  went  at  the  usual  hour  to  the 
house  and  was  told  to  call  at  eight  instead.  Punc- 
tual to  the  moment  I  found  myself  ringing  at  the 
entresol.  The  same  lizard  opened  the  door.  I  was 
shown  into  the  identical  boudoir,  and  at  the  pretty 
table  sat  the  lady.  Nothing  was  changed.  She  was 
dressed  in  gray  as  before,  letters  and  papers  were 
still  strewn  about,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  I 
could  imagine  my  adventure  to  be  forty-eight  hours 
old.  She  greeted  me  with  simple  grace,  and  look- 
ing up  said  with  an  irresistible  smile  : 

"  I  have  a  favor  to  ask.  Would  you  mind  not 
wearing  glasses  ?  I  have  a  fancy  to  always  see  the 
eyes  of  those  who  are  about  me." 

Could  any  request  have  been  more  startling  ?  Im- 
possible to  dispense  with  them — she  would  surely 
recognize  me  in  future  (for  I  now  intend  to  be  pre- 
sented in  my  proper  position).  Yet,  what  excuse 
to  make  ?  Putting  on  a  bold  front,  I  said  : 

"  I  don't  mind  taking  them  off  now  and  then,  but  in 


Marked  "In  Haste."  19 

my  last  Swiss  expedition  [I  haven't  seen  Chamounix 
for  years]  the  glare  of  the  glaciers  weakened  my  eyes, 
and  the  period  ordered  for  wearing  dark  glasses 
expires  in  a  month.  I  could  [regretfully]  do  with- 
out them  if  you  think  I  must,  but  it  might  undo  all 
that  has  been  done.  Eyesight  is  so  delicate  a  thing 

I "  But  in  spite  of  stammering  I  commenced 

taking  them  off.  She  looked  up  and  said  apologeti- 
cally : 

"  Don't  think  of  it ;  I  did  not  imagine  the  cause 
for  wearing  them  to  be  so  serious.  It  is  foolish, 
perhaps,  but  I  always  fancy  that  people  wear  dark 
glasses  only  when  they  wish  to  disguise  themselves." 
I  started  :  she  continued — "although  in  your  case  I 
might  have  known  better.  Shall  we  go  ?"  rising.  I 
took  off  the  horrid  lunettes,  and,  as  if  to  give  coun- 
tenance to  my  story,  the  sudden  change  from  dark  to 
light  caused  a  nervous  movement,  which  she  noticed. 
I  faintly  attempted  to  shade  my  eyes  with  my  hand  ; 
she  expostulated  :  "  Put  them  back  directly  ;  no  one 
should  suffer  for  a  caprice  of  mine,"  and  she  arose. 

It  seems  useless  telling  you  of  the  drive  to  Rue 
des  Sts.  Peres,  still  I  cannot  forbear.  As  the  first 
time,  we  passed  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  we  turned 
into  Quai  des  Tuileries,  and  bowled  along  the  Seine. 
The  night  has  been  lovely.  Rarely  does  one  see 
such  weather  in  Paris.  Of  course  St.  Martin's  sum- 
mer is  the  finest  season  of  the  year  ;  but  can  one 
call  this  St.  Martin's  ?  You  know  I  am  not  a  very 
talkative  person,  still,  can  you  imagine  me  playing  a 
silent  role  ?  Can  you  realize  that  not  only  do  I  not 
open  my  mouth  unless  I  am  spoken  to,  but  that  I 


20  Marked  "fu  Haste." 

have  discovered  that  rarer  phenomenon — a  young 
woman  completely  wrapped  up  in  herself,  uncon- 
scious of  her  beauty,  and  as  silent  almost  as  if  dumb  ? 
I  thought  she  might  ask  some  question,  make  some 
trifling  remark  about  the  weather,  extend  her  confi- 
dences a  little  further,  perhaps  ;  but  no  !  she  places 
herself  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage,  holding  her  papers 
fast  in  her  slender  hands  ;  and  her  face  is  an  almost 
impenetrable  mask — a  beautiful  mask  with  lovely 
eyes  peering  straight  into  the  night,  and  the  expres- 
sion habitual  to  it  one  of  such  profound  melancholy 
and  sadness  that  I  am  touched  in  spite  of  myself. 
Once  she  leaned  forward,  as  we  neared  the  bridge 
Henri  Quatre,  and  these  words  half-escaped  her  lips  : 

"  How  grand  is  Notre  Dame,  with  its  wondrous 
towers  and  massive  facade,  and  how  beautiful  is  all 
this  part  of  Paris  !  I  love  it."  I  responded  quickly  : 

"Yes  one  can  scarcely  understand  the  general 
mania  to  live  in  the  new  quarter,  near  the  Arc  du 
Triomphe.  It  is  also  beautiful  ;  but  this  is  histor- 
ical Paris,  and  dear  to  the  student's  heart." 

She  looked  at  me  in  amazement.  Forgetting  my 
position,  I  had  spoken  quite  naturally  as  a  man  of 
the  world  would  talk  with  a  well-bred  woman,  and 
my  assurance  could  not  but  have  astonished  her.  I 
also  spoke  in  English,  and  seemed  to  follow  her 
thoughts  with  extraordinary  celerity.  Hoping  she 
would  not  make  any  further  remarks,  I  gathered  as 
much  sang  froid  as  possible,  and  carelessly  stared 
out  of  the  window.  She  had  curiosity  enough  to  ask 
me  how  I  happened  to  speak  English  so  well,  at  the 
same  time  gravely  ignoring  my  lack  of  respect  in 


Marked  "/#  Haste"  21 

daring  to  respond  to  her  half-uttered  thoughts.  I 
said  : 

"  My  mother  was  English,  but  I  have  been 
brought  up  on  the  continent,  and  a  great  traveller 
all  my  life.  I  suppose  I  speak  English  fairly,  although 
I  prefer  German  or  French."  She  nodded,  as  if  to  in- 
dicate that  the  conversation  was  at  an  end,  and  set- 
tled back  into  the  old  quietness.  I  should  say  that 
we  always  speak  in  French,  and  that  her  accent  is 
marvellously  good.  Where  could  she  have  acquired  it, 
I  wonder  ?  I  know,  I  feel,  that  she  is  an  American. 
We  finally  reached  Rue  des  Sts.  Peres,  and  the  same 
thing  was  gone  through  with  as  on  the  previous  visit. 
We  said  "good  evening"  to  the  concierge;  we 
mounted  the  five  flights  of  mouldy  stairs  ;  she  entered 
the  mystic  chamber,  and  I,  her  paid  companion, 
waited  outside,  seated  in  the  old  chair.  Now  you 
shall  know  all  I  thought  about  during  my  time  of 
waiting. 

That  she  is  a  lady,  I  cannot  doubt ;  that  she  is  un- 
fortunate, I  am  sure  of  ;  and  also  that  a  great  -mys- 
tery envelops  her  strange  proceedings.  Her  house  and 
entourage  indicate  great  wealth.  Her  dress,  although 
simple,  is  of  the  finest  material.  On  her  left  hand 
blaze  jewels  that  she  wears  with  natural  grace,  and 
her  manners  not  even  my  own  lady  mother  could  find 
fault  with.  While  counting  the  passing  moments,  I 
decided  that  I  must  know  more  of  her  ;  and  knowing 
more  of  her,  naturally  I  shall  get  at  the  bottom  of  the 
mystery.  You  know  me  too  well  to  think  for  a  mo- 
ment that  I  could  be  actuated  solely  by  the  last  idea. 
She  is  so  young,  so  beautiful,  and  so  seemingly  alone, 


22  Marked  "/«  Haste" 

that  I  longed  to  tear  off  my  mask  and  offer  to  help 
her,  if  I  could,  or,  at  least,  in  some  way  to  share  her 
burden.  I  am  now  convinced  that  she  bears  a  secret 
load,  and  a  heavy  one.  She  is  not  bad — she  cannot 
be  ;  and  yet  meeting  a  young  man  alone,  in  his 
chamber,  at  night.  I  must  ignore  that  part  of  my 
thoughts  as  something  unworthy  and  quite  beneath 
a  gentleman.  Still  I  could  not  help  thinking.  I  must 
know  her  ;  but  how  to  be  introduced — how  and  in 
what  \vay  ?  I  can  only  think  of  the  Embassy  as 
usual,  and  to  find  my  way  to  the  American  Legation 
is  the  next  move.  I  shall  leave  Maurice's  to-morrow 
and  take  chambers  or  a  small  house  ;  then  I  can  con- 
tinue in  safety  my  new  role.  Bell  looked  astonished 
that  I  did  not  dress  this  evening ;  but  beyond  the 
knowledge  that  his  voice  in  quality  is  a  light  bari- 
tone I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  go.  I  have  done 
with  talkative  valets.  An  idea  !  Do  you  know  any 
one  who  has  the  acquaintance  of  the  American  Min- 
ister in  Paris  ?  He  is  so  distinguished  a  man  that  I 
might  naturally  wish  to  make  his  acquaintance.  I 
could  go  to  his  receptions,  and  might  meet  Miss 
Leslie.  Yes,  that  is  the  thing.  Do,  like  a  good  fel- 
low, find  out  at  once,  and  send  me  a  letter  of  pre- 
sentation by  the  next  post.  If  you  knew  how  anx- 
ious I  am  to  know  her,  and  to  see  how  she  appears 
in  the  world,  you  would  fly  to  aid  my  effort.  Don't 
ask  how  I  shall  keep  her  from  suspecting  who  Fel- 
den  is.  It  is  impossible  that  she  should  ever  discover 
anything  in  common  between  her  confidential  at- 
tendant and  an  English  gentleman.  But  supposing 
that  she  does  not  go  in  society  ?  That  is  quite  im- 


Marked  "In  Haste."  23 

possible.  Few  women  would  hide  so  pretty  a  face 
under  a  bushel  ;  and  few  women  have  griefs  poig- 
nant and  deep-seated  enough  to  hinder  their  liking 
admiration,  and  seeking  it  wherever  it  may  be 
found. 

She  came  out  of  the  attic  chamber,  and  the  tear- 
stained  face  of  last  Tuesday  was  to-night  perfectly 
calm.  Motioning  to  me  that  she  was  ready  to  start, 
without  speaking  we  descended  the  stairs.  The 
night  was  so  maliciously  seductive  that  I  longed  to 
steal  her  away  and  off  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 
Going  there  at  this  hour  is  one  of  my  passions.  The 
dr^ve  toward  the  Arc  du  Triomphe,  the  hundreds  of 
carriages  with  lovers  and  lanterns,  the  soft  charm 
of  moonlight  and  starry  skies,  are  to  me  the  most 
potent  of  the  seductions  of  this  gay  capital.  With 
the  woman  one  loves — bah !  how  fast  I  am  going. 
"With  the  woman  one  loves,"  indeed  !  It  certainly 
would  be  difficult  for  me  to  find  the  woman  I  love, 
unless  in  imagination.  I  swear  to  you  it  is  not  Miss 
Leslie  ;  I  am  interested  in  ner,  that  is  all ;  and  I  am  so 
much  interested  that  I  think  going  to  the  end  of  this 
adventure  will  cure  me  completely  of  a  passing  fancy. 
By  going  to  the  end — you  know  what  I  must  mean 
— I  am  sure  to  discover,  sooner  or  later,  some  quality 
quite  incompatible  with  what  I  exact  in  a  lady,  and 
the  day  of  said  discovery  will  be  the  death-warrant 
to  my  unreasonable  interest  and  curiosity.  I  can 
see  her  now  coolly  leaning  back  in  her  brougham. 
I  might  be  a  stone  for  all  she  occupies  herself  with 
my  presence.  To  be  sure,  ladies  do  not  keep  up  a 
running  conversation  with  their  attendants,  but  once 


24  Marked  liln  Haste." 

in  a  while  some  little  word  might  break  the  ice. 
Longing  to  be  my  true  self,  still  thinking  wildly  of 
carrying  her  off  to  the  Bois,  I  trembled.  I  could 
not  be  near  so  much  beauty  unmoved.  The  idea 
that  I  might  touch  something  belonging  to  her — per- 
haps a  fold  of  her  soft  dress — sent  a  thrill  of  electric 
fire  through  my  veins,  and  I  madly  wished  that  the 
horses  might  run  away,  a  collision  would  upset 
the  carriage,  that  anything,  in  fact,  might  happen, 
to  disturb  her  wondrous  nonchalance  ;  so  that,  even 
unwillingly,  she  might  outstretch  her  arm  and  place 
her  slender  hand  on  mine.  Then  I  would  feel  her 
quite  near  me.  I  would  take  her  to  my  heart,  con- 
fess the  deception  I  had  practised,  ask  her  to  forgive 
the  dual  part  I  had  played  and  to  accept  as  all  her 
own  the  life  that,  without  her  smile,  would  be  worth- 
less. All  this  I  thought  of. 

Such  was  the  maddening  influence  of  finding  my- 
self alone -with  this  beautiful  young  creature  at  night. 
Well  might  I  tremble.  The  colder  she  was  the  more 
ardently  I  loved  her.  Trie  more  statuesque  her  face 
the  more  I  longed  to  see  it  vivified  with  the  light  of 
love.  The  quiet  expression  in  her  eyes  becomes 
transformed,  through  the  medium  of  my  passion, 
into  a  fountain  whose  liquid  depths  reflected  only 
amorous  lights.  Perhaps  thi-s  might  become  real  in 
time.  I  will  set  myself  to  win  this  woman  ;  I  care 
nabght  for  her  past,  I  laugh  at  the  future,  I  only  wish 
for  the  present.  If  she  be  free  she  shall  be  mine  ; 
if  not,  I  shall  fly  Paris  and  her  presence. 

That  this  fatal  charming  presence,  which  makes 
me  forget  my  manhood,  my  pride  of  birth  and  sta- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  2$ 

tion — than  which,  heretofore,  nothing  in  this  world 
was  held  so  dear — that  a  pale  form  in  nunlike 
garb  can  inthrall  my  senses,  is,  to  me,  so  wonder- 
ful that  I  cannot  yet  realize  it.  Yet  I  do  realize  it 
and  know  exactly  why.  Pale  and  nunlike  are  words 
that  only  reveal  instead  of  disguising  her  beauty. 
She no,  I  cannot  now  describe  her  to  you  ;  to- 
morrow, perhaps.  To-morrow  my  imagination  will 
be  less  heated.  Out  of  her  sight  I  shall  be  my  own 
old  self,  and  delivered  from  the  influence  of  this 
personal  fascination,  I  may  recover  some  of  my 
usual  tranquillity  of  spirit.  It  must  be  the  night,  or, 
perhaps,  have  I  quaffed  too  deeply  of  the  generous 
vine  ?  No  !  Bacchus  rarely  rules  supreme  at  a  hasty 
dinner  ;  and,  if  I  remember  rightly,  this  evening's 
repast  was  meagre  and  unsatisfactory.  At  supper, 
then,  I  will  remedy  the  slight  to  our  favorite  god.  I 
dare  not  read  this  letter — I  would  be  sure  to  put  it 
into  the  waste-basket ;  yet  I  do  not  know.  You  are 
my  dearest  friend,  my  old  and  only  confidant,  and  I 
have  written  just  as  my  heart  dictated. 

Where  was  I  in  the  recital  ?  Ah  !  looking  at  my 
cold  companion,  with  the  moonlight  streaming  in  on 
her  face,  and  the  carriage  rumbling  as  monotonously 
as  ever.  Well,  while  looking  at  her  refined  beauty 
she  suddenly  let  her  eyes  fall  on  my  face.  With- 
out knowing  why,  I  remembered  that  I  was  her  paid 
companion,  certainly  in  intrigue,  perhaps  in  crime, 
and  the  distaste  that  any  honest  man  might  feel  at 
finding  himself,  for  the  first  time,  in  an  equivocal 
position  took  possession  of  me  to  such  a  degree  that 
2 


26  Marked  "In  Haste" 

I  longed  to  see  the  end  of  our  drive.  Perhaps  a 
dread  warning  of  the  power  such  a  woman  would 
hold  over  me  cast  its  shadow  over  my  soul.  Then 
and  there  I  struggled  with  myself,  and  the  result 
was  a  momentary  calm. 

Arrived  home  she  stepped  daintily  out  of  her  car- 
riage as  before  ;  said  "good  night  "  in  the  old  meas- 
ured tones,  and  "adieu  until  Monday;"  then  I 
turned  away.  In  her  haste  she  had  dropped  some- 
thing. It  was  her  handkerchief,  a  morsel  of  linen 
and  lace.  I  snatched  it  quickly.  It  lies  beside  me 
as  I  write.  I  do  not  think  I  shall  send  it  back.  Its  loss 
may  spoil  the  dozen  ;  its  gain  to  me  is  one  chance 
in  a  million.  There  is  an  odor  clinging  to  it  that 
is  delicate  and  sensuous.  It  seems  to  me  that  in  my 
lifetime  I  have  already  inhaled  this  odor.  But  where, 
and  when  ?  Ah  !  I  recollect.  The  first  time  I  saw 
her  in  the  boudoir  of  Avenue  Matignon,  when  she 
took  up  her  papers  and  letters,  I  noticed  the  fragrance 
that  exhaled  at  her  touch.  I  must  find  out  what  it 
is  and,  henceforth,  none  other  shall  ever  perfume  my 
life.  Heavens,  how  late  it  is  !  I  have  been  writing 
furiously,  but,  in  spite  of  me,  time  has  flown.  I  shall 
now  sit  down  and  drown  this  evening's  emotions  in 
my  favorite  Widow  Clicquot.  I  have  just  found  a 
note  from  Allani.  He  has  arrived  in  Paris  from 
America  and  invites  me  to  sup  with  him  to-night 
at  the  Imperial.  If  not,  breakfast  to-morrow  at 
Voisin's.  I  accept  the  dejeuner.  To-night  I  sup,  but 
alone.  In  fancy  there  are  three  places  at  the  table. 
The  first  is  mine,  the  second  is  occupied  by  a  hand- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  27 

kerchief,  and  the  third,  or  first,  enthrones  my  ideal 
woman.  Good  night,  and  God  bless  you.  Write 
me  directly  if  you  have  not  already  done  so.  I  ought 
to  have  a  letter  to-morrow. 

Always  the  same, 

BEAUFORT. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    SAME   TO    THE    SAME. 

November  gth. 
MY  DEAR  ATHOL  : 

I  almost  wish  you  hadn't  written.  What  kind 
of  a  friend  do  you  fancy  yourself  ?  For  fear  you 
may  not  recollect  the  contents  of  your  letter,  I  will 
quote  it  in  toto,  omitting,  however,  the  flattering 
appellation,  which  commences  it : 

"  Your  rushing  off  to  Paris  at  this  time  was  incom- 
prehensible. At  the  different  houses,  where  you  had 
promised  to  visit,  you  have  given  your  best  friends 
the  go-by,  and  what  we  thought  a  simple  caprice, 
will  culminate  in  some  irremediable  folly.  In 
Heaven's  name,  what  can  come  of  your  knowing  this 
woman  !  I  procure  you  a  letter  of  presentation,  in- 
deed !  rather  would  I  give  up  my  next  year's  rents — 
and  money  has  some  value  for  me  still.  Your  fair 
blonde — I  presume  she  is  a  blonde  (Eve  was,  also) — 
is  an  adventuress.  All  that  idea  of  a  friend  in  dis- 
tress in  the  Latin  Quarter  is  a  trumped-up  affair,  to 
have  its  weight  with  some  one — not  you.  She  does 
not  know  you,  but  servants  talk,  and  to  the  one  who 
sent  her  a  confidential  guide,  she  hopes  Felden  will 
naturally  relate  all  that  takes  place,  with  a  glowing 


Marked  "In  Haste."  29 

description  of  her  tear-stained  face,  resigned,  an- 
gelic character,  etc.,  etc.  I  cannot  imagine  how  you, 
who  have  travelled  the  wide  world  over,  who  can 
choose  between  a  duchess  and  a  courtesan  to  either 
tie  you  down  for  life,  or  amuse  you,  could  for  one 
moment  so  far  forget  yourself  as  to  play  such  a 
part  !  It  did  well  enough  for  the  first  night,  but 
after  that !  my  dear  cousin,  realize  what  you  are  do- 
ing. If  she  be  an  honest  woman,  you  have  no  right 
to  pry  into  her  secrets.  Even  honest  families  some- 
times have  skeletons  in  their  closets,  and  to  please 
you,  she  shall  have  the  benefit  of  the  doubt ;  but,  if 
she  be  what  I  could  almost  swear  she  is,  then  are 
you  running  into  positive  danger,  and  these  nightly 
escapades  must  be  stopped.  The  first  you  know  you 
will  be  heels  over  head  in  love,  and  then,  beware. 
All  that  you  have  ever  made  any  woman  suffer  will 
be  avenged  upon  your  own  head,  by  your  own  hand. 
The  one  you  love  has  a  secret,  a  mysterious  attach- 
ment, liaison,  probably  ;  she  will  never  care  for  you, 
and  if  you  continue  caring  for  her,  you  will  resort  to 
subterfuge,  deception,  and  perhaps  even  worse.  I 
know  your  character  so  well !  Although  but  a  few 
years  older  than  yourself,  my  life  has  been  one  long 
experience  in  reading  human  nature.  You  have 
good  stuff  in  you,  the  makings  of  an  honest  man, 
and  a  heart  capable  of  endless  affection.  Shall  I 
read  your  horoscope  ?  Well ;  if  you  will : 

"  If  you  really  interest  yourself  in  this  woman,  like 
Marc  Antony  for  another  Cleopatra,  you  would  con- 
sider a  world  well  lost  for  her  sake.  From  the  tone 
of  your  confidence,  I  see  a  gleam  of  hope  that  you 
are  not  yet  wholly  in  her  power  ;  but,  if  you  have 
deceived  me,  and  things  have  gone  further  than  I 
trust,  then,  alas  !  you  will  reap  much  sorrow  in  their 
undoing  !  Many  a  man,  at  the  beginning  of  life,  for 
one  fair  face,  has  watched  the  sun  set  forever  on 
hope,  and  the  years  drag  on  in  a  misery  that  no  fu- 


30  Marked  "In  Haste." 

ture  could  ever  mitigate.  Tell  me  that  you  have 
been  thoughtless,  curious,  what  you  will  ;  but  write 
me  that  this  farce  is  ended.  I  have  so  often  heard 
you  say,  '  I  would  commit  no  matter  what  bassesse  for 
the  woman  I  love.'  Pray  Heaven  you  only  said,  but 
were  far  from  really  meaning  it.  Forgive  my  plain 
speaking  ;  but  who,  since  your  father's  death,  has 
cared  for  you  as  I  have  ?  I  who  had  humored  your 
every  caprice,  who  intercedes  with  your  lady  mother 
when  the  maternal  pride  is  ruffled  by  some  thought- 
lessness on  your  part  ;  and  who,  in  all  this  world  has 
your  welfare  more  sincerely  at  heart  than  I  ?  I  have 
reread  your  letters,  and  alas,  cannot  look  upon  them 
in  the  light  of  a  practical  joke.  Hazard  plays  strange 
tricks  with  us  mortals  ;  and  even  the  great  Shake- 
speare did  well  to  bow  before  "  the  divinity  that 
shapes  our  ends."  In  this  case,  the  hand  of  a  divin- 
ity is  doubtful ;  and  the  end  thus  far  attained  rough- 
hewn  enough  to  startle  me. 

"  As  to  All-Hallow  Eve,  that  is  pure  rot,  although 
the  superstition  be  a  popular  one.  But  rather  than 
hurt  your  credulity,  I  will  even  allow  that  it  was 
strange  such  a  thing  should  happen  the  night  of  the 
thirty-first  of  October.  It  would  have  appeared 
quite  as  strange  the  thirty-first  of  November,  or 
the  thirty-first  of  May,  and  the  thirty-first  of  August. 
Putting  aside  the  legendary  thirty-first,  the  same 
thing  happening  on  any  night  of  no  particular  date, 
would  have  been  a  curious  coincidence,  and  only 
your  following  it  up,  places  it  in  the  light  of  a 
strange  adventure.  I  beg  of  you  to  accept  the 
distraction  thrown  in  your  way  by  charming  fate 
the  first  night  of  your  stay  in  Paris.  Send  the  lady 
a  letter  announcing  the  necessary  departure  of  Fel- 
den  ;  and  if  you  will  not  come  back  to  the  castle,  at 
least  send  for  your  dear  mother,  sister,  and  myself  to 
keep  you  company  in  that  gay  vortex  of  pleasure, 
called  'The  City,of  the  World.'  " 


Marked  "In  Haste"  31 

This,  my  dear  Athol,  is  your  letter  almost  in  its 
entirety.  I  had  thought  the  way  in  which  I  ex- 
pressed myself  with  regard  to  a  certain  person  could 
give  no  man  the  right  to  speak  harshly  of  her.  Miss 
Leslie  is  a  lady,  and  if  even  one  word  of  mine  has 
led  you  to  think  lightly  of  her,  I  beg  to  retract  it. 
I  have  been  sadly  distraught  since  meeting  her  and 
writing  to  you  ;  and  have  always  followed  the  exact 
course  of  my  thoughts.  In  thus  communing  with 
a  dear  friend  I  have  been  honest  as  with  myself. 
I  have  told  you  everything  as  it  was,  and  all  that  has 
happened.  Neither  more  nor  less.  You  may  be- 
lieve me.  It  is  not  to  my  own  kinsman  that  I 
should  utter  my  first  lie,  and  when  I  told  you  that  I 
was  only  interested  in  her,  I  told  the  truth.  I  now 
say  that  I  am  more  deeply  concerned  than  ever  in 
her  welfare,  and  shall  do  all  in  my  power  to  be  pre- 
sented to  her  in  the  right  way.  If  love  follows  my 
imprudence,  love  it  shall  be.  I  have  but  one  life 
to  live,  and  at  five  and  twenty  I  realize  that  knock- 
ing about  and  seeing  the  world  in  its  every  guise 
cannot  take  the  place  of  a  true  and  sincere  affection. 
I  have  always  said  that  men  and  women  should 
never  drive  from  their  hearts  an  honest  love.  One 
such  must  purify  the  inner  man  ;  and  I  welcome  with 
gladness  the  hope  that  I  shall  know  that  most  di- 
vine of  all  mortal  experiences.  She  may  be  un- 
worthy ;  but  my  love  will  be  sincere.  How  often  in 
the  history  of  the  world  have  men  loved  where  they 
could  not  esteem,  and  women  adored  where  they 
could  no  longer  respect  ?  I  shall  be  brave  enough 
if  I  find  that  our  lives  must  lie  apart,  to  never  see 


32  Marked  "/«  Haste" 

her,  but,  alas !  I  fear  that  I  should  never  cease  to  love 
her.  Perhaps,  my  ideal  woman,  with  the  only  part 
of  her  that  cannot  be  untrue,  her  face,  shall  be  my 
life's  companion.  At  present,  it  is  easy  for  me  to 
speak  thus. 

Nothing  on  earth  could  convince  me  that  I  am  in- 
terested in  an  adventuress  ;  and  I  would  stake  my 
soul  on  the  purity  and  truthfulness  of  Miss  Leslie. 
That  there  is  a  mystery  in  her  life  I  cannot  doubt ; 
but  that  she  is  aught  than  the  best  and  loveliest  of 
God's  creatures  I  will  never  willingly  believe.  I 
forgive  the  tone  of  your  letter,  but  I  shall  not  return 
to  London  ;  and  at  present  care  little  to  see  my 
mother  and  sister,  but  as  to  you  yourself  why  not 
come  here  if  you  will,  and  as  I  am  determined  to 
know  her,  you  shall  judge  if  such  a  face  can  mask  a 
bad  heart. 

Ever  the  same, 

BEAUFORT. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  SAME   TO   THE   SAME. 

November  nth. 
DEAR  ATHOL. 

Can  you  imagine  what  has  happened  ?  Allani 
called  by  chance,  and  took  me  to  the  American  Le- 
gation. I  was  introduced  to  the  American  Minister, 
a  charming  man,  and  am  already  invited  to  next 
Tuesday's  reception.  Allani  is  a  capital  fellow,  and 
has  told  me  all  about  his  travels  in  America.  He 
insists  that  I  shall  go  there  this  winter  or  next  sum- 
mer. I  cannot  tell  you  how  he  is  changed,  and  for 
the  better.  He  gives  such  glowing  pictures  of  the 
New  World  that  I  am  half  tempted  to  go.  I  shall 
then  see  her  country.  Of  course,  you  understand  my 
pleasure  at  the  prospect  of  next  Tuesday's  "soiree." 
She  will  be  present ;  I  shall  be  introduced  ;  and  will 
find  out  all  about  my  incognita.  She  is  too  beauti- 
ful to  pass  unnoticed  in  the  world,  and  I  will  Venture 
to  say  that  any  one  in  society  can  tell  me  all  about 
her.  It  is  because  I  have  not  frequented  the  Ameri- 
can resorts  in  Paris  that  I  am  not  already  au  fait  de 
tout.  I  consider  my  life  half  thrown  away,  and  all 
my  previous  visits  to  this  adorable  city  completely 
null.  Let  us  hasten  to  repair  our  fault. 

2* 


34  Marked  uln  Haste" 

In  view  of  what  I  have  undertaken,  I  found  it  neces- 
sary to  quit  Meurice's.  The  Due  de  Dethune,  Rue  de 
Bassano,  has  a  jolly  little  hotel  that  he  rarely  inhabits. 
Arthur  has  rented  it  for  me,  and  I  am  already  in- 
stalled. In  fact,  I  am  writing  this  letter  in  a  quaint 
little  room,  with  the  rusty  portrait  of  a  certain 
Duchess  de  Dethune  smiling  down  upon  me  from 
her  carved  frame.  She  does  not  disturb  me  in  the 
least.  These  eyes  on  canvass  that  follow  one  about 
wherever  one  goes,  may  reflect  great  credit  on  the 
painter's  art,  but  I  never  feel  in  the  slightest  degree 
uncomfortable  in  their  presence.  Ah  !  what  a  thing 
is  a  clear  conscience  !  I  presume  you  would  like  to 
know  some  of  the  gossip  circulating  in  Paris.  I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  my  stock  is  exceedingly  limited. 
Beyond  the  fact  that  "  Owen  Meredith "  received 
great  literary  stars,  and  his  Excellency,  the  British 
Ambassador,  was  a  very  great  favorite,  I  can  scarcely 
go.  The  usual  squabbles  are  going  on  between  the 
MacMahonites  and  the  Legitimists  ;  and  the  Duke 
de  Magenta  is  strongly  suspected  of  Bonapartist 
proclivities.  Poor  Mr.  Thiers,  ex-President,  passes 
his  time  one  scarcely  knows  how.  I  saw  him  yester- 
day in  his  coupe,  drawn  up  in  the  corner  like  an  an- 
cient mummy.  Have  you  been  here  since  the  war  ? 
Of  course,  yes  ;  what  am  I  thinking  of  ?  we  were  here 
together.  Can  one  realize,  upon  weighing  the  exact 
avoirdupois  of  this  nation,  what  its  real  character  is 
worth  ? 

In  looking  around  I  see  lamentable  landmarks  of 
the  recent  conflict ;  but,  from  the  desinvolture  of  the 
people  themselves,  I  should  never  imagine  that  they 


Marked  "In  Haste.''  35 

had  known  the  recent  horrors  of  a  great  war.  Taking 
them  all  in  all,  I  think  the  French  a  nation  to  ad- 
mire. The  people  are  thrifty  ;  the  most  careless  will 
still  think  of  turning  the  penny — let  us  say,  an  honest, 
rather  than  a  dishonest  one  ;  while  the  war  debt, 
though  so  enormous,  will  enrich  Germany,  but  will 
never  impoverish  France.  It  will  be  paid — "  all  hands 
to  the  wheel" — with  as  much  gaiety  as  a  workman 
dances  at  his  wedding  breakfast.  They  consider  it  as 
something  to  be  done,  a  loss  for  the  moment,  but 
entailing  no  serious  consequences.  I  think  we  have 
too  long  held  our  neighbors  in  disdain.  We  are 
wrong.  They  present  a  smiling  front  to  the  stranger 
within  their  gates  ;  look  upon  a  national  misfor- 
tune as  a  family  skeleton,  to  be  closeted  at  home, 
but  not  to  be  exhibited  abroad.  They  never  appeared 
to  me  a  serious  race  ;  no  one  ever  doubted  their  wits, 
philosophers  or  poets  ;  but  the  world  has  doubted, 
and  with  some  apparent  reason,  their  stability  as  a 
nation.  Being  English,  and  naturally  the  quintes- 
sence of  egotism,  I  am  charmed  to  find  so  much 
legerete  in  so  near  a  vicinity,  and  as  I  usually  come  to 
Paris  to  get  rid  of  the  spieen,  I  am  delighted  to  find 
the  city  its  own  old  gay  self.  Why  should  I  refer  to, 
or  even  think  of,  their  war,  when  to  the  veriest  Pari- 
sian the  winter  of  '70-71  might  have  belonged  to  any 
time  B.C.,  or  still  better,  represented  the  sufferings 
of  those  supposed  poor  people  who  traversed  the  Red 
Sea,  on  what  they  now  believe  to  have  been  a  pleasure 
trip.  They  take  the  world  as  it  comes,  so  will  I. 
They  bear  their  cares  lightly,  so  will  I.  Everything 
is  treated  with  the  same  frothy,  delightful  indiffer- 


36  Marked  "/»  Haste" 

ence  which  may  well  afford  an  example  to  even 
"  Perfidious  Albion." 

The  Tuileries  are  in  ruin.  I  remarked  (wishing  to 
be  sympathetic)  to  a  Frenchman,  that  the  ruins 
little  resembled  the  beautiful  palace  when  twinkling 
feet  hid  the  mosaics  of  the  tessellated  floor,  and  the 
light  and  beauty  of  Parisian  society  honored  the  ca- 
price of  an  Empress,  or  the  beck  of  a  Bonaparte, 
who  little  resembled  Canova's  ideal.  He  looked  at 
me  wonderingly,  then  answered  in  good  faith,  with 
the  inevitable  shrug  of  the  shoulders  : 

"  The  Tuileries  ?  Ah,  yes  !  It  was  a  beautiful 
palace.  It  is  now  a  beautiful  ruin.  What  can  you 
expect  ?  We  admire  all  that  is  beautiful — to  admire 
the  ruin  you  cannot  also  have  the  palace  !  " 

The  civilized  Frenchman  knows  no  regret.  Yester- 
day is  '  past,'  to-morrow  not  yet  come  ;  the  only  fact 
that  stares  him  in  the  face,  an  indubitable  to-day  !  So 
proud  is  he  that  he  will  not  even  mourn  over  his 
losses,  and  so  malicious  that  he  makes  light  of  all  mis- 
fortunes. I,  even  I,  a  stolid  Briton,  can  never  think  of 
the  burning  of  such  a  city  as  this  as  otherwise  than  a 
universal  calamity.  The  destruction  of  any  work  of 
art  is  a  loss  to  humanity.  The  destruction  of  such 
buildings  as  the  Tuileries,  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and 
numerous  others  equally  well  known,  is  an  irre- 
parable disaster.  The  valuable  paintings,  books,  and 
historic  souvenirs,  whose  contemplation  gave  nations 
pleasure,  lie  in  annihilation,  trodden  under  foot 
among  neglected  ash-heaps,  and  powdered  along  the 
Parisian  Boulevards. 

This  letter  must  stop.     Its  tone  is  regretful,  and 


Marked  "In  Haste"  37 

I  have  already  told  you  that  what  is  past  is  past,  but 
what  is  to  be — must  be.  I  know  what  I  wish  to  hap- 
pen :  it  is  that  to-morrow's  post  will  bring  me  a 
letter  from  England  ;  that  I  might  close  my  eyes 
now  to  awake  Monday  night  in  presence  of  my  ideal ; 
and  that  Tuesday  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  mak- 
ing my  finest  bow.  Placing  my  crush-hat  over  the 
region  of  my  heart,  I  will  diligently  study  one  figure 
in  the  rich  Aubusson  ;  my  foot  will  involuntarily  take 
the  "  first  position  "  requisite  in  the  ordinary  saluta- 
tion ;  my  voice  will  murmur  indifferently  :  "Charmed 
to  make  your  acquaintance  ! "  but  it  will  beat  like 
a  sledge-hammer,  and  I  shall  return  to  Rue  Bassano 
the  happiest  man  in  existence.  The  happiest,  and 
your  ever  affectionate  kinsman, 

BEAUFORT.  ' 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ATHOL  BRANDON  TO  LORD  BEAUFORT. 

November  I2th. 
MY  DEAR  FRANCIS  : 

I  fear  expostulation  would  be  in  vain.  Your 
letters  are  certainly  interesting  ;  and  I  do  not  know 
but  what  you  will  do  well  to  follow  the  inclination 
of  your  (excuse  my  smile) — heart.  I  never  before 
knew  you  to  be  so  determined  on  having  your  own 
way  ;  and  as  such  is  the  case,  why,  what  can  one  do 
but  look  on  and  hope  for  early  disenchantment  and 
a  hopeful  end.  I  thought  you  wrote  like  a  mad- 
man ;  I  begin  to  realize  that  you  wrote,  instead,  like 
an  Englishman.  Perhaps  you  did  not  think  I  would 
take  you  at  your  word,  and  accept  your  kind  invita- 
tion to  come  to  Paris  ?  I  leave  to-morrow  morning 
in  the  tidal  train,  and  if  nothing  better  offers,  pray 
come  to  meet  me  at  the  station.  I  suppose  we  will 
get  in  about  five  ;  however,  you  can  easily  ascertain 
the  exact  hour,  and  will  do  me  a  tremendous  favor 
by  putting  in  an  appearance  about  that  time.  Your 
lady  mother  quite  favors  my  joining  you,  and  her 
pleasure  at  not  leaving  you  alone  in  a  city  so  rank 
with  temptation,  quite  obliterated  her  curiosity  at 
my  sudden  departure.  Lady  Beaufort  is  an  angel, 
and  your  little  sister,  Alice,  a  second  Madonna.  With 
a  home  like  yours,  how  you  can  have  the  heart  to 


Marked  "In  Haste"  39 

ramble  all  over  creation  passes  my  comprehension. 
However,  let  us  hope  that  your  travels  are  ended  for 
a  time. 

It  is  something  to  know  that  Paris  pleases  you. 
Paris  is  near  home,  and  the  sight  of  even  a  postage 
stamp  with  a  Republican  goddess  instead  of  some 
Palestine  disfiguration  is  a  welcome  change.  Wire 
me  if  you  wish  anything  from  London.  No,  it  would 
be  too  late.  I  shall  be  en  route  when  you  receive 
this.  My  dear  boy,  all  this  may  seem  trivial,  and  so 
it  is.  I  am  more  deeply  interested  than  you  think. 
I  am  almost  alarmed  at  your  strange  infatuation,  and 
I  can  only  ponder  on  what  you  have  told  me.  You 
are  five  and  twenty,  but  one  would  never  imagine  it 
from  the  knowledge  of  this  last  week's  manoeuvres. 
It  sounds  like  one  of  your  college  escapades.  I  will 
say  no  more,  or  you  will  greet  me  coldly.  Whatever 
happens,  let  nothing  come  between  us.  Certainly, 
no  strange  woman  with  a  pallid  face  should  in  one 
week  so  fill  your  heart  and  mind  that  no  place  is  left 
for  your  own  nearest  and  dearest !  Good-by  and 
Heaven  bless  you  ! 

Always  your  affectionate 

ATHOL. 

Lord  Beaufort  sighed  as  he  read  the  letter.  In 
the  last  few  words,  he  realized  that  we  retain  our 
allegiance  to  home  affections  until  we  meet  the  one 
soul  kindred  with  our  own.  When  that  moment 
comes,  farewell  simple  joys  and  the  dear  maternal 
servitude.  The  home  of  our  youth  becomes  a  house 
of  bondage.  Father,  mother,  sisters,  brothers,  are  a 
secondary  consideration  ;  and  the  face,  whose  fea- 
tures are  perhaps  but  twenty-four  hours  old,  is  the 
only  one  whose  lineaments  are  indelibly  stamped 


40  Marked  "In  Haste." 

upon  our  hearts.  Parents  must  expect  this.  Long- 
fellow has  said,  "  There  are  no  birds  in  last  year's 
nest."  The  words  are  poetic  and  truthful.  When 
the  young  ones  fly  to  find  themselves  newer  habita- 
tions, farewell  to  the  ancient  boughs  that  sheltered 
them  ;  farewell  to  the  nest  where  the  mother-bird  so 
daintily  hovered  while  caring  for  her  young. 

Lord  Beaufort  was  an  only  son,  descended  from 
a  long-lined  ancestry.  Beaufort  lands  and  castle,  in 
fair  Devonshire,  were  the  envy  of  many  an  ancient 
house.  The  country  for  miles  around  smiled  on  his 
broad  acres  and  thrifty  fields.  The  Beauforts,  father 
and  son,  for  more  than  five  centuries,  had  ruled  su- 
preme in  their  grand  old  domain.  The  last  lord, 
Earl  of  Brandon,  and  father  to  the  present  earl, 
died  in  1872,  leaving  a  wife  and  two  children  ;  all 
his  rich  inheritance  going  to  his  only  son,  Francis. 
The  house  was  in 'reality  a  feudal  castle.  It  was 
built  in  pure  Italian  renaissance,  .with  two  square 
towers  at  either  end,  around  whose  top  ran  a  superb 
terrace. 

Fair  indeed  was  the  domain  of  Beaufort ;  and  at 
five  and  twenty  Lord  Francis  found  himself  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  castle  and  landed  property  that  few  noble- 
men, even  the  richest,  could  boasL  His  youth  had 
been  passed  at  Cambridge.  Graduating  with  honor 
at  an  exceptionally  early  age,  he  had  spent  the  time 
until  his  majority  travelling  with  his  cousin.  The 
cousin  was  Athol  Brandon,  the  only  child  of  Lord 
Beaufort's  sister,  and  the  loved  companion  of  the 
young  heir.  A  few  years  Beaufort's  senior,  he 
was  in  person  a  fine  contrast  to  Francis,  but  ready 


Marked  "In  Haste."  41 

to  join  him  in  anything,  so  nearly  were  they  mated 
in  sympathy  and  habit.  They  had  travelled  after 
his  coming  of  age,  and  only  the  sudden  demise  of 
Mrs.  Brandon  had  separated  them.  Athol  was  called 
home,  and  Francis  continued  his  travels  alone.  In 
1872  his  father's  illness  recalled  the  wanderer ;  but 
alas !  the  seeds  of  gentlemanly  vagrancy  were  al- 
•ready  sown,  and  hard  was  it  to  the  enthusiastic  trav- 
eller to  settle  down  on  the  paternal  estate. 

The  eleventh  Earl  of  Beaufort,  after  a  flattering 
convalescence,  died  suddenly  in  relapse,  and  his  son 
Francis,  the  present  earl,  found  himself  heir  to  all 
the  broad  acres  of  his  father's  domain,  and  head  of 
the  house  of  Beaufort.  His  mother,  ne'e  the  Lady 
Helen  Vane,  had  been  a  fond  wife  and  loving  parent. 
In  the  second  year  of  wedded  life  the  heir  was  born, 
and  fifteen  years  later  a  second  child,  a  tiny  baby- 
girl  with  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair.  She  was  named 
Alice  after  a  maternal  great-aunt,  as  she  had  none  of 
the  lineaments  of  the  Brandons.  A  strange  little 
waif  who  was  spoiled  by  brother  Francis,  adored  by 
mamma  and  papa,  who  ruled  in  the  house  and  tyran- 
nized on  the  estate. 

After  the  Earl's  death,  the  Countess  closed  the 
castle,  and  spent  a  year  with  her  parents  at  Vane 
Manor,  a  magnificent  property  in  Yorkshire.  The 
winter  of  1873  was  spent  in  Rome,  Naples,  and  Flo- 
rence ;  the  next  two  seasons  in  London,  in  quiet, 
however  ;  the  two  following  winters  in  Algiers,  for 
the  health  of  little  Alice  ;  and  from  that  time  until 
the  October  of  1876,  Francis  Beaufort  had  done  little 
else  but  travel. 


42  Marked  "In  Haste" 

In  September  Beaufort  Castle  had  been  opened 
to  intimate  friends,  but  after  five  weeks  of  staying 
at  home,  Lord  Beaufort  was  already  anxious  for 
change.  He  would  run  over  to  Paris  for  a  week  ; 
after  a  few  days  in  Brighton,  to  Paris  he  went. 
There  we  find  him,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
with  a  definite  object  in  view.  At.  least  he  thought 
himself  desperately  interested  and  half  in  love.  Ai> 
adorer  of  beauty,  he  had  found  his  ideal  woman. 
Lord  Francis  was  essentially  English.  He  had  not 
arrived  at  his  time  of  life  without  having  followed 
in  the  footsteps  of  the  other  noblemen  of  his  time. 
His  scholarly  tastes  were  just  pronounced  enough 
to  permit  him  the  enjoyment,  in  a  very  full  sense, 
of  this  world's  pleasures  and  pastimes.  He  might 
play  at  the  club  half  the  night,  consume  two-thirds 
of  a  bottle  of  kirchenwasser ;  but  a  return  home 
in  the  dawn  found  his  senses  alert,  and,  instead  of  a 
bacchanalian  refrain,  some  tender  operatic  fragment 
would  more  likely  escape  his  lips.  He  loved  nature 
and  out-door  sport,  but  hunting,  fishing,  rowing, 
and  driving  were  not  to  him  the  sum  total  of  exis- 
tence. A  beautiful,  chivalrous  appreciation  of 
men  and  women  was  the  greatest  legacy  handed 
down  to  him  by  his  ancestors.  Although  he  had 
seen  much  to  disgust  him,  he  had  also  seen  much 
to  admire.  He  was  in  one  sense  very  un-English,  as 
he  had  a  tendency  towards  optimism.  At  five  and 
twenty  one  can  be  optimist,  but  at  this  age,  and  an 
Englishman  who  has  lived,  it  is  a  very  difficult  thing 
to  be. 

Lord  Beaufort  had  learned  that  most  essential  of 


Marked  "In  Haste"  43 

all  the  lessons  taught  Britannia's  sons  and  daughters  : 
To  pretend  indifference  ;  to  be  perfectly  cold  and 
undemonstrative  ;  to  pass  for  an  egotist — always 
gentlemanly,  but  always  distant ;  to  be  thought 
worldly  and  calculating ;  in  fact  to  be  recognized  and 
considered  English.  This  outward  varnish  was  ac- 
cepted as  genuine  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  but  it 
could  not  hide  his  real  nature  from  his  friends,  nor 
the  enthusiasm  that  carried  him  away  when  thinking 
of  Miss  Leslie,  and  writing  to  his  well-loved  kins- 
man. With  the  pride  natural  to  a  gentleman,  and  the 
calmness  that  distinguishes  his  nation,  without  any 
seeming  display,  he  attained  quietly  and  deliberately 
the  end  sought.  He  was  determined  to  find  out  who 
Miss  Leslie  was  ;  he  was  willing  to  do  it  at  the  cost,  if 
necessary,  of  his  life's  happiness. 

What  he  exacted  he  would  give.  He  would  give  all 
without  stint,  and  he  would  know  the  one  woman  who 
had  such  charm,  and  such  power  to  charm.  Never  in 
his  life  before  had  he  met  such  individual  loveliness  ; 
but  under  what  circumstances  ?  Here  the  good  in 
his  nature  showed  itself.  The  beautiful  must  be  true, 
for  nature  rarely  misses  her  handimark  ;  but  it  needed 
much  persuasion  to  satisfy  a  straightforward  man 
that  a  woman  with  a  secret  was,  in  nine  chances  in 
ten,  no  matter  how  beautiful,  a  woman  to  be  avoided. 
Beauf ort  pere  would  never  have  reasoned  :  he  would 
have  left  Paris.  Beaufort  fils  not  only  courted  mys- 
tery and  fascination,  but  he  remained  in  the  city ;  and, 
in  order  to  miss  none  of  his  habitual  comforts,  quietly 
established  himself  in  an  hotel,  as  they  call  French 
private  houses  in  France.  A  bit  of  a  place  after 


44  Marked  "In  Haste" 

the  castle  ;  but  home,  and  like  most  people,  Beau- 
fort liked  comfort  at  the  proper  time.  He  hated  ho- 
tels, he  could  never  accustom  himself  to  the  espionage 
of  continental  servants,  and  when  his  mind  was  made 
up  to  resume  his  proper  character  after  serving  with 
Miss  Leslie,  he  was  willing  to  live  in  two  rooms,  if 
necessary,  but  by  himself. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PORTRAITS   OF   THE   YOUNG   MEN. 

THE  tidal  train  from  Boulogne  was  just  puffing 
into  the  Northern  Station.  Beaufort,  with  a  special 
carte,  had  been  allowed  to  pass  the  mysterious  grating 
dividing  the  inner  from  the  outer  platform,  and 
stood  waiting  the  arrival  of  his  cousin.  In  a  moment 
he  spied  his  blond  head  in  one  of  the  carriage  win- 
dows, and  in  two  seconds  later  he  was  shaking  his 
outstretched  hand. 

"  Dear  old  boy,"  said  Brandon,  affectionately, 
"  how  jolly  of  you  to  meet  me  !  How  well  you  look, 
and  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  !  " 

Beaufort  smiled,  and  said  : 

"  Are  you  quite  sure,  after " 

Brandon  grew  serious,  but  responded  heartily: 
"  Of  course  I  am,  '  after ' — '  after '  what  ?  Ah  !  I  see  : 
you  wish  to  take  the  bull " 

"Would  you  mind  saying  that  in  French?"  said 
Beaufort,  half  maliciously.  "  It  sounds  less  brutal." 

"  No,"  said  his  cousin,  sturdily.  "  I  am  not  afraid, 
now  or  ever,  of  the  sound  of  good  Anglo-Saxon  ;  and 
I  repeat,  you  seem  to  want  to  take  the " 

"  This  way  for  the  baggage  !"  screamed  the  guard. 
"  On  va  ouvrir  la  salle  tout  de  suite" 


46  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"Curse  these  frog-eaters!"  said  Brandon,  inter- 
rupted in  the  midst  of  his  phrase.  "  They  make 
more  fuss  over  the  arrival  of  ten  people  than  we 
would  in  London  over  a  series  of  excursion  trains, 
all  going  and  coming  at  once  at  Euston  Station. 
Their  yells  are  deafening,  and  about  what  ?  " 

Beaufort  laughed.  "  All  in  honor  of  your  ar- 
rival," said  he,  gaily.  "  But  what  about  luggage  ? 
Have  you  brought  any  ? " 

Athol  placed  his  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  said, 
quietly  :  "  Have  I  brought  any  ?  My  dear  Francis, 
I  have  come  to  stay  until  you  turn  me  out.  Am  I 
welcome  ? " 

Lord  Beaufort  reddened,  but  said  quickly:  "You 
are  always  welcome,  and  this  time  the  only  person 
in  the  world  that  I  cared  to  see." 

Brandon  looked  pleased.  Just  then  the  great 
doors  were  opened,  and  rows  of  luggage  were  seen 
piled  on  the  long  benches  or  tables. 

One  of  the  nuisances  of  continental  travelling  is 
the  custom-house.  Waked  up  in  the  dead  of  night, 
at  any  hour,  one  is  dragged  forth,  perhaps  in  the 
pouring  rain,  to  follow  some  garnished  official,  who 
finishes  by  asking  in  a  cracked  voice,  after  going  to 
the  bottom  of  even  Flora  McFlimsey's  trunks,  "  If 
you  have  any  tobacco,  cigarettes,  cigars,  spirits  or 
perfume  to  declare." 

The  fiend  knows  perfectly  well  that  you  haven't, 
but  he  must  do  his  duty.  Coming  into  Paris  is  less 
disagreeable  than  going  from  there,  for  instance  into 
Belgium,  Holland,  or  Germany. 

A  smoky  waiting-room,  where  the  combined  odors 


Marked  "In  Haste"  47 

of  not  overclean  travellers  greet  your  nostrils,  is  the 
room  into  which  one  is  shown  while  awaiting  the 
distribution  of  the  baggage.  If  one  survives  this, 
and  "lutteset  tu  vaincras"  one  is  regaled  later  on  with 
the  sight  of  a  pair  of  garlic-smelling,  puffy  paws  rum- 
maging about  one's  linen.  After  things  are  generally 
disarranged,  one  of  the  green-coated  officials  says  in 
stentorian  tones  : 

"  Put  things  back  again  and  shut  the  boxes."  This 
is  in  order  to  save  himself  the  trouble.  He  will 
probably  have  the  cheek  to  interpolate  a  frigid 
smile  with  the  words  : 

11  Madame  or  Monsieur  can  do  it  better  than  I. 
He  knows  where  his  own  belongs." 

It  is  heartrending  to  witness  the  disrespect  shown 
voyagers  when  they  have  passed  from  beneath  the 
Union  Jack.  One  country  is  scarcely  worse  than  an- 
other, although  the  most  disagreeable  custom-houses 
are  those  of  the  provinces,  where  the  distances  are 
short,  the  people  poor,  and  the  employes  dirty  and 
diligent. 

In  large  cities  one  can  well  afford  waiting  and  a 
little  extra  inconvenience.  The  voyage  is  usually 
at  an  end,  and  one  cannot  only  repose  the  tired  body 
but  rearrange  the  disordered  luggage.  The  sensible 
traveller  picks  out  a  commissioner  (if  he  has  no  valet), 
throws  him  his  keys  and  some  silver,  and  saying, 
"  Who  ^breaks  the  trunks  pays  ;  but  bring  the  debris 
to  such  a  place,"  is  off  like  a  shot  ;  and  nine  chances 
in  ten  his  luggage  will  follow  him  in  good  con- 
dition. 

Athol  and  Beaufort  were  just  looking  up  the  Eng- 


48  Marked  "In  Haste" 

lish  sole-leathers  when  Beaufort  recollected  that  Bell 
was  somewhere  about. 

"We  are  both  idiots,"  said  he,  tranquilly.  "Give 
him  your  keys  and  we  will  leave  this." 

Brandon  handed  him  a  small  trousseau,  and  select- 
ing those  necessary  for  the  boxes,  the  two  cousins 
strolled  out  of  the  great  exit.  An  open  victoria, 
with  a  capital  pair,  stood  waiting.  Beaufort  and  his 
companion  jumped  in,  and  lighting  cigars  were 
soon  at  their  ease.  I  say  "  at  their  ease."  One  wras 
at  his  ease,  the  other  scarcely.  He  need  not  have 
had  any  fear,  however,  as  Brandon  had  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  referring  to  anything  that  had 
passed  in  their  correspondence.  He  was  quite  the 
Athol  that  Beaufort  had  left  in  London,  gay,  frank, 
good-humored,  and  loyal. 

In  person  he  was  the  typical  Englishman.  Fair 
hair,  with  blue-gray  eyes,  bronzed  skin,  and  as  hand- 
some a  man  as  one  would  meet  of  a  morning  in  the 
Row.  He  was  very  slight,  however,  and  gave  one 
the  idea  that  his  health  left  something  to  desire.  He 
wore  a  moustache,  but  no  beard.  His  brows  were 
heavy  and  dark  ;  his  lashes  curiously  curled  up  in- 
stead of  down,  and  placed  the  gray  eyes  in  tantalizing 
shadow.  The  expression  of  his  countenance  was 
politely  cold  ;  his  voice  was  hearty  and  reassuring, 
quite  in  contrast  with  his  face,  but  in  spite  of  its  sin- 
cerity sometimes  suggested  that  he  was  not  in  ear- 
nest. He  was  a  thoroughly  well-bred  young  man  and 
distinguished,  as  are  tens  of  thousands  of  England's 
youth. 

His  cousin  Francis  was  almost  his  opposite  in  per- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  49 

sonal  appearance.  He  had  fine,  clear-cut  features, 
an  extremely  pale  face,  and  beautiful  mouth,  which, 
when  he  speaks,  discloses  teeth  even  and  white  as 
pearls.  A  soft,  mild  expression  is  his  characteristic 
one,  except  when  in  conversation.  Then  the  pallor 
grows  clearer  and  a  faint  dash  of  color  breaks  into  the 
cheeks.  The  eyes,  strange  to  say,  are  truly  Spanish 
— deep  gray,  large,  and  velvety.  The  lashes  are  long 
and  black,  and  when  the  Earl  looks  down  they  throw 
a  heavy  shadow  on  his  cheeks.  The  eyebrows  are 
finely  arched,  and  the  forehead  denotes  intelligence 
and  great  thoughtfulness.  The  hair  is  bluish-black 
and  has  just  the  slightest  perceptible  wave  in  it.  He 
wears  it  cut  very  closely,  but  occasionally  a  lock 
strays  over  his  temple  with  careless  grace.  His  head 
is  simply  beautiful,  and  he  carries  it  with  royal  dig- 
nity and  hauteur.  His  form  is  slight  and  his  car- 
riage extremely  easy  and  graceful.  While  speaking 
he  is  usually  energetic  and  impassioned.'  His  voice, 
sweet  and  clear,  rings  with  an  enthusiasm  that  be- 
longs to  his  years.  An  earnest,  cultivated  young 
man,  he  charms  all  who  come  in  contact  with  him. 

Personal  beauty  in  man  or  woman  is  a  gift.  The 
art  of  pleasing  is  perhaps  a  more  dangerous  charm, 
and  Lord  Francis  possessed  both  in  an  unusual  de- 
gree. 

Lord  Beaufort  felt  anything  but  gay,  but  by  a 
supreme  effort  tried  to  appear  at  least  indifferent. 
The  young  men,  by  some  happy  combination,  found 
themselves  discussing  the  breakfast  at  Voisin's,  who 
was  in  the  city,  and  the  latest  scandal — a  grand  duke 
who  had  stolen  his  mother's  diamonds,  and  a  frail 
3' 


50  Marked  "In  Haste" 

American  who  had  the  bad  taste  to  wear  them. 
Finally,  Beaufort  said  : 

"  My  dear  Athol,  have  you  no  curiosity  as  to  where 
we  dine  ? " 

Brandon  smiled.  "  Curiosity,"  he  added,  "  and  an 
appetite  that  will  honor  your  menu  wherever  it  be 
cooked." 

"You  are  confiding,"  said  my  lord  gaily,  "and 
evidently  hungry  ;  but  console  yourself.  We  dine  at 
the  Cafe  Anglais — not  tete-a-tete,  as  you  might  have 
supposed.  I  have  asked  Lanesborough  and  Allani  to 
join  us  because  I  had  previously  asked  them  to  keep 
me  company  at  dinner  this  evening.  It  would  per- 
haps have  put  them  out  to  make  other  arrangements  ; 
hence  I  counted  on  your  friendliness  and  acqui- 
escence." 

Brandon  said  quickly  :  "  Quite  right,  my  dear  fel- 
low, and  the  idea  of  the  Cafe  Anglais  could  not  have 
been  bettered.  I  shall  do  undoubted  honor  to  both 
cellar  and  kitchen."  To  himself  he  thought :  "  This 
is  a  ruse.  He  asked  them  to  dine,  not  on  account 
of  a  previous  engagement,  but  because  he  feared  a 
tete-a-tete  with  me.  He  has  not  the  courage  to  de- 
fend himself  at  six  o'clock,  but  he  will  have  plenty 
after  dinner.  In  truth,  this  is  a  miserable  hour, 
and  one  that  tells  upon  the  stoutest  heart."  Aloud 
he  added : 

"  What  do  you  say  to  an  absinthe  at  the  Neapolitan  ? 
In  the  midst  of  the  ancient  band  of  decorated  topers 
that  usually  congregate  at  this  hour,  no  one  will  re- 
mark two  solitary  Englishmen." 

"  Good  !"  responded  Beaufort,  ''provided  we  are 


Marked  "In  Haste"  51 

not  taken  for  two  deserters  from  the  '  Cook's  tourists.' 
I  am  agreed,"  and  they  drove  to  the  famous  cafe. 

It  was  just  the  hour  when  the  "band"  was  in 
force,  and  what  a  sight !  The  habit  of  drink  may  be 
a  disputable  one,  but  that  of  drinking  absinthe  is  in- 
disputable. The  pale  green  liquor  that  tastes  like 
simple  paragoric  is  a  demon  than  which  any  other 
intoxicant  is  but  the  phantom.  It  drags  brain  and 
body  to  destruction,  it  breaks  up  homes,  it  ruins 
nations  under  the  seductive  guise  of  "giving  one  an 
appetite."  The  daily  habit  once  formed  of  taking 
even  the  smallest  quantity  before  a  repast,  in  a  short 
time  becomes  one's  bond-master.  Even  the  dread 
hasheesh  is  less  inexorable,  while  opium-eating  be- 
comes a  secondary  vice.  One  can  break  off  from 
either  of  these  because  one  fears  the  consequences. 
Absinthe  is  so  seemingly  harmless  that  one  never 
realizes  the  vital  hold  that  it  gains.  In  an  incredibly 
short  time  one  has  the  habit  of'taking  a  little  before 
dinner.  To-morrow  it  is  forgotten,  a  second  per- 
haps, and  the  victim  does  not  miss  it.  He  is  so  well 
without  it  that  the  idea  of  his  ever  becoming  an  ab- 
sinthe drinker  is  ridiculous.  Parisians  get  into  this 
habit  for  the  reason  that  it  assists  them  to  pass  their 
time,  get  up  an  appetite,  and  furnishes  an  excuse  for 
sitting  out  on  their  adorable  boulevards  to  watch 
the  endless  number  of  demi-mondaines  who  pass  in- 
cessantly. 

Most  people  have  resort  to  anodynes  to  relieve 
suffering.  The  thousands  of  victims  to  morphine, 
opium,  and  the  like,  all  began  by  silencing  some 
obstinate  pain  with  the  requisite  dose.  The  persis- 


52  Marked  "In  Haste."' 

tent  return  of  the  suffering  claimed  a  double  portion 
for  the  morrow.  The  benefit  of  these  narcotics  is  a 
divine  consolation  in  incurable  maladies,  and  the 
excuse  of  their  continuous  employment,  even  after 
the  patient  is  cured,  is  admissible  while  dangerous  ; 
but  I  repeat,  the  vice  of  absinthe-drinking  for  only  the 
reasons  above  mentioned  is  deplorable  and  utterly  sans 
une  raison  d'etre.  The  hapless  minnow  in  the  deadly 
clasp  of  the  devil-fish  has  more  chance  to  escape 
from  its  clutches  than  the  Paris ianflaneur  has  from 
this  vice,  who  watches  the  morn  of  life  fade  into 
night,  who  knows  no  law  but  the  one  of  habitual 
drink,  who  has  no  sense  of  honor,  no  sense  of  loyalty 
save  fidelity  to  his  favorite  god — absinthe. 

The  young  men  drew  up  before  the  cafe.  As 
Brandon  had  divined,  the  band  were  there  in  force. 
The  little  tables,  standing  far  out  on  the  boulevard, 
were  all  occupied,  and  the  scene  presented  the  varied 
picture  it  always  does  at  that  hour.  Old  heads 
and  young,  bearded  men  and  striplings,  flowing 
locks,  bald  heads,  heavily  lined  faces,  countenances 
as  yet  unfurrowed  by  care — all,  all  these  in  the 
motley  crowd.  Nine-tenths  sat  with  hands  clasped 
on  the  heads  of  their  canes,  their  eyes  dreamily  look- 
ing at  the  slender  glass  in  whose  depths  reposed  the 
sea-green  liquor. 

Some  were  chatting  gaily,  some  conversing  and 
gesticulating  in  the  Italian  fashion,  some  seemed 
drowsy,  while  others  were  on  the  qui  vive  for  all  that 
was  going  on.  As  some  well-known  demi-mondaine 
would  pass  every  eye  was  fixed  and  on  the  alert. 
Those  grown  old  in  dissipation  and  vice  would  leer 


Marked  "fn  Haste"  53 

in  an  imbecile  manner  as  the  person  passed,  and 
make  some  gesture  quite  comprehensible  to  the 
street-walker.  The  younger  men,  with  delicious 
impertinence,  would  speak  loudly  enough  to  attract 
attention  ;  then,  when  the  lady  turned,  their  words 
had  already  assumed  the  pure  boulevard  flavor,  per- 
fectly adapted  to  her  understanding. 

Ladies  who,  by  chance,  are  forced  to  be  alone  in 
the  streets  at  that  time,  suffer  in  being  obliged  to 
pass  the  cafes.  As  they  are  mostly  occupied  by  in- 
ebriates and  dram-drinkers,  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely 
one  may  hear  remarks  whose  meaning  no  one  re- 
gards ;  buttthe  fact  of  their  being  addressed  palpably 
to  some  one,  is  in  itself  annoying.  It  is  a  very  rare 
thing,  however,  to  meet  real  ladies  alone  at  that  hour 
in  Paris,  as  those  who  are  unaccompanied  usually 
choose  a  more  retired  promenade.  Still,  the  absurd 
stories  afloat  that  ladies  cannot  walk  alone  in  the 
streets  of  Paris  without  being  insulted,  is  one  that 
should,  on  no  account,  gain  credence,  as  it  is  false. 
A  chance  word  that  may  escape  the  lips  of  some 
flaneur  at  a  public  restaurant  should  not  be  laid  to 
the  account  of  the  entire  male  sex  of  a  great  city  ; 
and  no  lady  is  in  danger  of  having  an  affront  repeated 
if  she  keeps  on  her  way  apparently  unconscious  of 
the  slight. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SUNDAY    IN    PARIS. 

LORD  BEAUFORT  chose  a  quiet  corner,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  the  surroundings  told  upon  his  tem- 
per. He  spoke  with  Athol,  as  of  old,  with  the  same 
unconcern,  and  in  the  usual  spirit.  He  assured  him- 
self of  his  mother's  well-being,  and  inquired  for  lit- 
tle Alice  with  real  brotherly  solicitude.  He  even 
broached  other  topics,  but  not  the  topic.  In  fact  he 
seemed  quite  at  his  ease,  and  sipped  a  glass  of  Tu- 
rinese  vermouth,  while  Brandon  toyed  with  his  ab- 
sinthe. 

When  they  had  finished  their  refreshment  they 
seemed  quite  at  their  ease,  without  a  shadow  be- 
tween them.  It  was  time  to  dress  for  dinner  when 
their  glasses  were  emptied.  Shortly  after  they 
found  themselves  well  started  homewards,  and  Bran- 
don gave  the  full  rein  to  his  spirits.  He  remarked 
upon  everything  as  they  passed,  recognized  well- 
known  Bonapartists  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  smiled 
significantly  when  some  fair  dame  saluted  Beau- 
fort or  himself,  and  kept  up  so  lively  a  conversation 
that  time  fairly  flew. 

The  night  promised  to  be  fair,  and  the  sun  was 


Marked  "In  Haste."  55 

already  hiding  itself  back  of  the  old  Palais  Bour- 
bon. The  gilded  dome  of  the  tomb  of  the  great  Na- 
poleon shone  with  a  steady  splendor,  and  the  mag- 
nificent buildings  that  are  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Tuileries  and  Place  de  la  Concorde  were  ablaze  with 
the  glories  of  the  setting  sun. 

The  victoria  traversed  the  place  and  turned  into 
the  Champs  Elysees.  A  world  was  about,  but  not 
the  world  of  Paris.  The  avenue  was  thronged  with 
carriages,  but  no  one  familiar  face  was  visible.  Any- 
body may  permit  himself  -the  luxury  of  a  vehicle  of 
some  sort  on  Sunday,  as  it  is  a  regular  fete,  but  few 
of  the  best  society  in  Paris  drive  on  that  day. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  watch  the  French  people  endi- 
manche.  As  a  nation  they  seem  to  have  a  peculiar 
appreciation  of  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  "  a  day 
of  rest."  Mass  in  the  morning,  a  family  breakfast 
with  all  of  the  family  present,  a  walk  in  the  Champs 
Elysees  in  the  afternoon  with  the  little  ones,  and  a 
dinner  at  any  of  the  numerous  cafes  that  one  stum- 
bles upon  in  every  part  of  the  city.  They  walk 
leagues  for  pleasure  during  the  day,  eat  continually 
(for  their  appetites  are  insatiable),  and  dine  off  ten 
dishes  at  night,  because  it  is  Sunday  and  a  fete. 
The  evening  is  spent  at  the  play,  and  after  midnight 
Morpheus  emancipates  the  tired  bodies,  and  too 
much  feted  souls.  Looking  upon  the  manner  they 
pass  this  day,  in  one  sense  it  becomes  anything  but 
a  day  of  rest.  It  has  the  greater  virtue,  however,  of 
satisfying  everybody,  being  national  and  undeniably 
— French. 

The  Champs  Elysees  was  so  crowded  that  Beau- 


56  Marked  "/«  Haste" 

fort  turned  into  the  Avenue  Cours-la-Reine — a  beau- 
tiful street  embowered  in  trees,  with  a  long  prome- 
nade for  mounted  cavaliers,  and  lying  in  full  view  of 
the  much-vaunted  Seine.  It  is  really  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  in  the  city,  and  many  celebrated  people 
live  within  its  aristocratic  precincts. 

They  passed  a  fine  house  and  saw  a  very  imposing 
lady  in  a  window.  She  was  chatting  gaily,  and 
looked  very  "  comffy  "  from  the  depths  of  her  great 
chair.  It  was  the  celebrated  contralto  Marietta 
Alboni,  Madame  Pepoli,  now  a  countess,  and  I  don't 
know  what  else  besides  in  the  way  of  title.  She  is 
more  honored  with  her  first,  however  (that  of  a  great 
contralto),  than  any  of  the  others.  Titles  may  be 
bought  or  bestowed — genius  is  inborn. 

The  gentlemen  lifted  their  hats  in  deference  to  the 
near  vicinity  of  so  much  distinction  and  drove  on. 
At  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Bayard  was  Gustave  Dore's 
famous  studio.  As  they  neared  the  house,  the  ar- 
tist was  just  coming  down  the  street,  and  the  Earl 
stopped  to  say  a  little  "good  day." 

Dore  is  young,  almost  handsome,  with  beautiful 
brown  eyes,  and  much  friendliness  of  manner.  He 
seemed  quite  pleased  to  meet  his  friends,  and  imme- 
diately made  a  rendezvous  for  an  early  day.  Beau- 
fort was  careful  not  to  allow  it  to  interfere  with 
another  engagement  th^t  weighed  upon  his  con- 
science— semi-weekly. 

Finally  they  reached  the  hotel.  The  weary  trav- 
eller retired  to  dress,  while  his  kinsman  went  to 
the  smoking  boudoir  to  see  if  there  was  any  one 
there  waiting.  Beaufort  was  not  a  man  that  his 


Marked  "In  Haste"  57 

friends  made  use  of,  neither  had  any  one  full  liberty 
to  march  into  his  house  at  any  hour  of  the  day  and 
make  himself  at  home  ; — which  means  very  plainly, 
smoking  the  best  cigars,  drinking  any  amount  of 
liquors,  and  testing  the  wine-cellar  to  a  capacity  not 
even  known  to  the  master  of  the  house.  But  the 
Earl  was  reasonably  good-natured,  and  indifferent 
enough  to  pass  for  a  much  more  amiable  man  than 
he  really  was.  He  was  at  home  every  day  between 
twelve  o'clock  and  two  ;  and  very  often  the  half-hour 
that  preceded  dinner  found  him  quite  disposed  to 
receive  his  friends.  I  will  be  just  enough  to  say 
that  a  welcome  from  Beaufort  was  never  half-hearted. 
He  was  either  glad  to  see  one,  or  he  made  use  of  a 
woman's  virtuous  subterfuge — "  not  at  home."  He 
was  thoroughly  whole-souled,  and  happily  English. 
While  he  was  dressing,  the  bell  rang  ;  a  servant 
brought  him  a  note.  Although  they  were  not  to  sit 
down  thirteen  at  the  table,  he  half  feared  excuses. 
He  was  not  nervous,  but  any  conversation  relating 
to  Miss  Leslie  that  evening  was  out  of  the  question. 
He  desired  no  tete-a-tete  with  Athol,  and  half  tremb- 
lingly opened  his  letter.  It  was  from  an  old  friend. 
He  read  : 

"  DEAR  MY  LORD  : 

"  You  must  breakfast  with  us,  if  possible,  this 
week.  I  might  let  you  off,  but  Countess  Isaure  is 
inexorable,  and  we  name  Friday,  at  half-past  eleven. 
We  have  taken  the  liberty  of  inviting  two  old  friends 
to  join  us,  and  hope  you  will  not  be  engaged  for  that 
date.  I  am  sure  you  will  very  much  '  take  to-'  one 
of  them.  //  (mind  I  do  not  give  the  sex)  is  charm- 
s' 


58  Marked  "In  Haste" 

ing.  I  suppose  it  would  be  quite  as  enlightening  to 
say  das  kind,  for  it  is  young,  although — soit  dit  entre 
nous — the  neuter  of  a  German  noun  is  never  a  thing 
one  could  swear  to.  What  are  you  doing  all  of  the 
week,  and  can  we  not  dine  together  somewhere  before 
Friday  ?  This  invitation  has  affair  with  the  Coun- 
tess, although  I  am  quite  as  insistent  as  she  that  you 
do  not  fail  us.  This  has  been  a  busy  time  ;  although 
early  in  the  season,  we  have  been  to  two  '  hals  de 
contra  f, '  four  dinners,  twice  as  many  soirees,  and  a 
fine  wedding.  The  bride  wyas  lovely  and  very  rich. 
The  last  comes  first.  '  Very  rich '  and  naturally  very 
lovely.  The  bride'smaids  were  charming,  the  best 
men  all  good  partis.  Let  me  whisper  something  in 
your  ear  !  Although  dressed  in  the  most  virginal 
of  virgin  white  (pray  do  not  think  I  am  writing 
scandal),  they  do  say  that  not  one  of  these  pretty 
creatures  has  a  me'daille  de  rosiere.  How  sad  that  the 
outward  sign  does  not  always  indicate  the  inward 
and  spiritual  grace.  Believe  me,  however,  things 
are  not  as  bad  as  people  think.  'Tis  something  to 
wear  white  garments.  Ah  !  man  cher,  your  Shake- 
speare knew  ;  assume  a  virtue,  and  you  have  it  not, 
etc.  Now  I  must  say  adieu,  as  the  hour  of  dinner 
approaches,  and  this  will  just  catch  you.  Madame's 
regards,  my  warmest  and  sincerest  friendship,  as  I 
am  always  yours, 

"  L£ ON  VANDALIN. 

"Avenue  de  Messine,  4  P.M." 

Beaufort  laughed  and  laid  down  the  letter.  It  was 
so  like  the  Count,  a  bit  shocking,  but  not  at  all  un- 
palatable. It  is  so  satisfactory  to  know  that  other 
people  in  the  world  are  talked  about,  for  human  van- 
ity always  protects  the  first  person  singular.  His 
valet  «iade  a  note  of  the  engagement,  and  his  lord- 
ship made  a  brief  response,  as  follows  : 


Marked  "In  Haste"  59 

"  DEAR  FRIEND  : 

"Always  delighted  to  pay  my  humble  duty  to 
your  lovely  Countess.  She  is  one  of  the  few  that 
cause  us  reprobate  bachelors  to  regret  the  state  of 
single  blessedness.  At  half-past  eleven  then  I  shall 
be  promptly  on  hand.  Your  announcement  of  das 
kind  half  puzzles  me.  Provided  it  be  not  a  musical 
prodigy  violin,  or  piano,  I  shall  be  present.  Your 
remarks  on  the  wedding  are  amusing.  I  almost  take 
back  mine  about  single  blessedness.  Why  should 
rosieres  flourish  only  in  Neuilly  and — imagination  ? 
We  will  try  and  arrange  a  dinner  for  Wednesday. 
A  propos,  I  am  not  alone  ;  my  kinsman,  Athol  Bran- 
don, has  come  to  Paris  to  pay  me  a  visit.  He  is  the 
gentleman  you  have  so  often  heard  me  mention,  and 
the  one  you  once  missed  at  Shanklin.  Drop  in  to- 
morrow for  tea,  and  let  me  present  you.  I  close 
with  laying  my  heart  '  aux  jolis  petit s  pieds  de  Ma- 
dame la  Comtesse*  You  might  have  cause,  but  don't 
be  jealous. 

"Yours  affectionately  ever, 

"  BEAUFORT. 

"  P.S.  When  I  spoke  of  musical  prodigies,  I  omit- 
ted including  male  singers.  I  don't  wish  to  insult 
you,  but  it's  not — I  hope,  it's  not  an  importer  of 
the  high  C's.  One  thing  I  consider  more  disgrace- 
ful than  all  others,  and  that  is  to  be  born  a  tenor. 
Tenorism — if  I  may  invent  a  word — is  a  birth-mark 
which  stains  through  generations.  Ages  cannot  wipe 
it  out. 

"  Yours  hopefully, 

"  B." 

The  Earl  despatched  his  answer  and  proceeded 
with  his  toilet.  A  tap  on  the  door,  followed  by  a 
head  peering  half-way  into  the  chamber,  disclosed  his 


60  Marked  "In  Haste." 

cousin  in  irreproachable  swallow-tail,  and  looking 
very  handsome  and  refreshed. 

"Not  ready  yet,"  said  he,  brightly.  "The  hour 
nears  seven,  and  we  are  a  long  way  from  the  An- 
glais. I  will  leave  you  to  yourself  and  look  into 
some  of  old  Dethune's  albums  which  are  in  the  li- 
brary ;  but  you  will  have  to  hurry ! " 

Beaufort  explained  :  "  I  had  to  read  and  answer  a 
letter  from  my  old  friend,  Count  Vandalin  ;  and,  by 
the  way,  you  may  as  well  look  at  the  epistle.  It  is  in 
Gallic-English  and  not  at  all  dull.  You  must  know 
Leon.  He's  one  of  the  few  that  render  life  and  so- 
ciety perfectly  delightful.  His  remarks  are  some- 
times a  little  dc'colletJes,  but  it  is  like  the  fashion  the 
ladies  have  of  dressing  for  dinner,  when  a  belle 
drops,  not  her  eyes,  but  an  inch  too  much  of  her  cor- 
sage. I  will  be  with  you  directly." 

Brandon  took  the  letter,  and  a  moment  after 
Beaufort  heard  a  laugh,  followed  by  the  words 
which  came  through  the  door-way :  "I  think  he 
must  be  awfully  jolly,  and,  without  wishing  to  add  to 
a  rolling  ball  of  snow,  I  think  I  know  who  the " 

Beaufort  emerged  from  his  dressing-room  with  a 
sly  expression  dimpling  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and 
interrupted  : 

"  You  think  you  know  who's  who  ?  As  Allani 
says,  '  I  guess  we  all  know,'  but  it's  as  well  to  let 
the  sleeping  dogs  lie.  Allans .' " 

They  went  down  the  Champs  Elysees  this  time, 
and  turned  into  the  Rue  Royale  without  having  met 
a  friendly  face.  Brandon  found  Paris  her  old  smil- 
ing self,  and  expressed  his  real  pleasure  at  being  back 


Marked  "In  Haste"  61 

there  again.  Sunday  in  England  has  little  terror 
for  the  orthodox  Briton  ;  but  honest  folks  do  say 
that  Sunday,  in  any  other  spot  in  the  world,  is  a  little 
less  depressing  than  in  the  great  "  gathering  place  of 
souls,"  London.  Even  Brandon  could  not  help  re- 
marking the  complete  emancipation  from  daily  toil 
indulged  in  by  the  gay  populace  that  thronged  the 
streets.  The  honest,  happy  faces  that  beamed  on 
one  from  every  side  communicated  some  of  their 
cheerfulness  to  him,  and  each  moment  he  felt  his 
heart  growing  lighter,  without  knowing  why.  They 
passed  the  great  Church  of  the  Madelaine  where 
priests  mumble  aves  over  scoffers'  bones.  There  was 
a  humming  in  the  air,  a  murmur  of  hundreds  of 
chattering  voices,  a  satisfaction  in  the  to-day,  which, 
in  any  nation  other  than  the  French,  would  presage  an 
equal  satisfaction  for  the  morrow.  It  is  well  under- 
stood, however,  the  value  of  the  French  endimanchJ. 
It  is  like  coupons  for  a  theatrical  performance 
marked  '"good  for  this  date  only,"  or  champagne — 
when  the  cork  first  flies  out,  one  should  take  while 
effervescing. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

DINING    AT    THE    "ANGLAIS." 

THEY  reached  the  Cafe  Anglais  in  ample  time,  al- 
though the  carriage  could  move  but  with  difficulty. 
The  habitual  loungers  at  Tortoni  were  the  only 
ones  who  lingered  at  this  late  hour.  Handsome 
Italians  were  taking  their  vermouth  and  talking 
politics  as  usual,  while  the  restaurant  of  the  Maison 
Dorfo  was  already  filled  to  its  limit'  The  young  men 
remarked  this  from  the  window  of  their  beautiful 
salon  on  the  first  floor,  facing  the  boulevard.  The 
guests  not  arriving,  they  remained  fora  few  moments 
looking  out  upon  the  scene. 

The  day  is  pleasant  in  Paris,  but  the  night  is  fas- 
cinating. Especially  does  one  become  permeated 
with  a  sense  of  the  beautiful  when  looking  upon  the 
witchery  of  these  wonderful  Boulevards.  Not  an 
occasional  cafe  is  seen,  but  ten,  a  dozen,  twenty,  with 
their  superb  furnishing  of  gold  and  crystal,  and  the 
great  mirrors  from  floor  to  ceiling,  reflecting  the 
inner  and  outer  world.  Myriads  of  gas-jets  are  re- 
flected from  burnished  silver,  the  crystal  of  chan- 
deliers, and  the  surface  of  polished  mirrors,  till  the 
scene  is  one  of  indescribable  splendor.  Every  day 
one  is  treated  to  a  real  tableau  vivant  that  excels 


Marked  "In  Haste"  63 

the  finest  stage  effects.  Not  even  the  enchanting 
fairy  pieces  at  the  Chatelet,  with  their  gorgeous  trans- 
formation scenes,  can  compare  with  the  ensemble  of 
the  Parisian  boulevards,  when  the  weather  is  fine  and 
the  cafes  show  forth  in  all  their  ravishing  splendor. 

In  a  moment  Lanesborough  and  Allani  arrived. 
There  was  cordial  handshaking  and  a  delightful 
absence  of  ceremony.  The  gaiety  of  the  evening 
had  penetrated  everywhere,  and  four  happier-look- 
ing or  more  amiable  young  men  would  not  be  met 
with  "  in  a  month  of  Sundays."  It  was  time  to  serve 
the  dinner.  Conversation  was  not  fairly  under  way 
until  the  coppery  bivalves  had  disappeared.  A  re- 
mark from  Allani,  on  American  oysters,  caused  some- 
thing like  the  excitement  of  Orsini's  bomb  when  the 
Emperor  was  driving  in  Rue  Lepelletier. 

Neither  of  the  other  gentlemen  had  visited  the 
New  World,  and  they  could  not  realize  the  fact  that 
any  oyster  could  rival  the  little  coppery  insect  that 
is  served  up  with  such  gusto  on  the  continent. 
Allani  repeated  his  remark,  that  the  "American 
oyster  is  the  only  one  in  the  world  fit  to  eat.  Per- 
haps," he  added,  "  that  is  an  extraordinary  statement. 
I  shall  modify  it.  I  'don't  think  that  after  eating 
oysters  in  New  York,  one  would  ever  again  care  for 
this,"  indicating  a  mottled  speck  that  rested  like  a 
stain  on  its  shell.  Lanesborough  began  : 

"  It's  all  well  enough  for  Allani  to  talk  up  America. 
I  never  imagined  one  could  become  so  wedded  to  a 
savage  country,  you  know.  'Pon  my  life,  it  is  extra- 
ordinary !  After  three  trips  there,  and  four  or  five 
years  under  a  stranger  flag,  he  gives  up  everything 


64  Marked  "In  Haste." 

for  the  fascination  of  a  New  World.  I  am  not  much 
of  a  traveller,"  he  continued,  with  unstudied  candor, 
''and  I  cannot  imagine  life  out  of  London  or  Paris. 
Vienna  is  not  bad,  and  the  pretty  Viennese  are 
really  too  seductive  on  a  moonlight  night  at  Schon- 
brunn.  Italy  !  ah,  Como's  a  funk,  Venice  a  harbor 
of  bad  smells,  Rome  condensed  miasmas,  and 
Petersburg  a  nihilistic  camp.  One  can't  speak  a  word 
in  the  club  without  running  afoul  of  some  con- 
founded socialist,  and  ten  to  one  you  light  your 
cigarette  over  a  concealed  factory  of  dynamite. 
Thanks,  awfully,  but  no  Russia  for  me.  I  will  eat 
my  caviar  in  a  more  civilized  country."  The  ob- 
sequious waiter  standing  near  heard  the  word 
"  Caviare  "  and  reddened.  He  kept  getting  redder 
until  his  finely  starched  collar  seemed  to  choke  him, 
and  there  was  imminent  danger  of  rupturing  some 
blood-vessel.  He  advanced,  and  with  an  "  Ahem  !  " 
with  glaring  eyes  no  longer  concealing  his  indigna- 
tion, he  commenced:  "Caviare!  mi-lor"  (with  a 
voice  half  authoritative,  half  humble),  "  caviare  ;  per- 
mettez-moi)  we  have  the  article.  It  is  even  upon  the 
menu,  but  who,  (I  beg  mi-lor's  pardon),  who  could 
possibly  desire  to  eat  caviare  with  their  oysters  ? 

But  if  mi-lor  wishes,  I " 

All  looked  up  and  laughed.  The  man's  distress 
was  evident  and  honest.  Lanesborough  stared  at 
him  with  calm  deliberation,  took  in  the  collar  inun- 
dated by  too  much  throat,  stuck  his  glass  in  his  eye, 
and  with  ineffable  repose,  continued  his  survey  of 
the  garcon.  Twice  the  man  attempted  to  go  on,  to 
explain.  With  each  fresh  effort,  the  gentleman 


Marked  "In  Haste"  6$ 

looked  at  him — looked  at  him  as  only  an  Englishman 
can  look  ;  and  as  the  officious  servant  made  one  final 
attempt  to  speak,  Lanesborough  held  him  with  his 
gaze.  That  last  look  was  too  much.  He  bowed 
frantically,  and  walked  out  of  the  room  with  the 
same  dizziness  that  affects  the  steps  of  a  man  walk- 
ing on  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  He  was  already  dis- 
graced in  his  companions'  eyes  ;  a  thousand  desperate 
thoughts  flashed  through  his  brain,  the  most  harrow- 
ing one,  that  his  pourboire  would  not  "  materialize  " 
that  evening.  While  Lanesborough  was  yet  looking, 
the  velvet  portfire  concealed  his  retreating  form  with 
as  much  kindliness  as  it  could  have  shown  toward  an 
emperor,  and  the  dinner  went  on.  Lanesborough  said : 

"What  the  devil  was  the  fellow  trying  to  get  at  ? 
He  quite  took  my  breath  away  with  his  warmth  ! " 
Beaufort  laughed  and  said : 

"  For  a  man  whose  breath  is  taken  away,  you  had 
every  appearance  of  life,  and  your  coolness  was  a  fine 
set-off  to  his  'warmth,'  as  you  call  it ;  but  we  must 
be  generous.  He  thought  you  wanted  a  hors-dceuvre 
with  your  oysters,  and  the  best  self-control  in  the 
world  is  not  proof  against  the  despair  of  an  inborn 
butler  when  he  sees  a  change  in  his  menu.  People 
must  eat  in  order,  live  by  faith,  and  never,  under  any 
circumstances,  take  tart  when  they  should  try  arti- 
chokes. I  remember  one  second  maitre  d,  hotel  we  once 
had,  that  left  the  house  at  Christmas  time  because 
I  would  drink  champagne  all  through  my  dinner. 
I  have  changed  now.  That  was  in  my  salad  days, 
when  the  midnight  oil  was  burned  out  at  Grosvenor 
Square  germans,  and  I  had  a  mania  for  the  spark- 


66  Marked  "In  Haste" 

ling  drink.  Poor  man  !  did  I  know  where  he  is,  I 
would  send  him  a  letter  informing  him  of  the  return 
to  reason  of  his  old  master.  Allani  (suddenly  turning 
to  him),  what's  all  this  talk  of  Lanesborough  about 
America  ?  Have  you  really  become  a  naturalized 
citizen  of  the  United  States  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  no  !  "  said  Allani  very  decidedly,  with  a 
laugh.  "  I  like  America  immensely,  but  I  am  still  loyal 
to  her  Majesty  the  Queen.  I  think  that  Englishmen 
might  adore  the  country,  live  there  years,  be  constantly 
going  back  and  forth,  yet  never  swear  citizenship  in 
one  of  her  States.  We  are  English.  Why  should 
we  become  naturalized  Americans  ?  It  is  like  one 
being  one's  second  self.  In  an  English-speaking 
country,  one  cannot  feel  the  great  difference  in  race. 
Did  I  not  hear  my  own  language  spoken,  I  would 
not  be  so  much  struck  with  the  resemblance  between 
us.  Believe  me,  that  is  the  first  consideration  when 
one  arrives  in  the  great  city  of  New  York.  One  sees 
fair  English  faces,  hears  strong  ringing  voices,  and, 
best  of  all,  one  hears  the  mother-tongue  in  the  first 
sound  that  greets  his  ear  on  landing.  That  is  one  rea- 
son why  we  are  predisposed  to  like  America  from  the 
outset.  To  get  there  creates  almost  the  feeling  one 
has  on  returning  home  after  a  long  absence.  In  a  ten 
days'  trip  crossing  the  ocean,  there  is  time  to  think  a 
great  deal.  One  expects  discomfort,  bustle,  noise,  a 
new  people  but  a  slight  remove  from  the  aborigines, 
and  exaggerates  the  possibility  of  not  being  able  to 
'  take  to '  them  even  with  time.  A  trip  to  America  is 
looked  upon  as  a  thing  to  be  done  to  gratify  curios- 
ity, not  to  study  or  appreciate  a  great  people.  I — " 


Marked  "In  Haste"  67 

"  Hear  !  hear  !  "  interrupted  Brandon.  "  My  dear 
boy,  what  can  have  converted  you,  you  the  acknowl- 
edged infidel,  into  the  belief  that  out  of  London — " 

"There  is  a  bank,"  Beaufort  chimed  in.  "Ten 
months  have  certainly  made  a  great  difference  ;  but 
I'll  tell  you  the  reason.  He  is  cured  of  his  extreme 
youth.  The  changes  each  day  are  not  enormous,  but 
the  total  seems  to  have  been  radical,  effective,  and 
complete.  What  is  it,  my  friend,  will  you  explain  ? " 
Allani  looked  half  serious,  but  simply  answered  : 

"  If  it  be  interesting,  I  don't  mind  telling  you, 
only  it  seems  out  of  place  here.  The  truth  is,  I 
found  my  trip  to  America  one  of  such  novelty  and 
charm,  that  I  began  directly  to  see  things  in  a  dif- 
ferent light.  In  two  days  after  my  arrival,  it  broke 
upon  me  that  in  England  we  live  in  a  groove  ;  and, 
instead  of  being  the  greatest  race  in  the  world,  we 
are  far  less  remarkable  than  Americans  as  a  nation. 
The  effect  upon  my  mind  was  something  overwhelm- 
ing. I  was  quite  dazed,  as  I  tell  you.  We  are  so 
self-secure  in  our  estimate  of  Old  England,  that  no 
amount  of  talk  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  can  bring 
before  us  the  tremendous  reality  of  what  America 
is,  and  after  seeing  it,  even  one  glance  at  New  York, 
one's  ideas  suddenly  collapse.  The  most  cherished 
hobbies  become  helplessly  wooden  ;  the  most  exag- 
gerated idea  dwarfs  in  comparison  with  what  this 
people  and  country  veritably  are.  You  say  I  am 
changed.  Possibly.  I  looked  at  myself  in  the  glass 
two  months  after  my  first  visit,  for  it  seemed  to 
me  that  my  mind  would  show  through  my  features 
the  colossal  transformation  it  had  undergone.  I  no 


68  Marked  "In  Haste" 

longer  saw  through  the  glasses  of  British  prejudice, 
and  although  feeling  at  all  times  a  sense  of  my  own 
importance  as  a  loyal  Englishman,  I  realized  very 
emphatically  that  there  is  a  New  World  and  a  new 
people  that  command  our  admiration  and  respect. 
What  the  nineteenth  century  requires  are  civilization 
and  progress.  England  harps  on  the  one,  and  is 
gaining  but  little  in  the  other.  There  are  giant  in- 
tellects in  the  New  World,  which,  if  I  mistake  not, 
will  carry  that  people  through  everything.  In  two 
hundred  years  there  will  be  but  one  nation — Ameri- 
cans. Europe  is  already  rotting.  I  must  say  that 
England  has  now  solid  minds  and  men,  and  we  are 
a  clever  people.  The  reason  Americans  will  get  so 
ahead  is  that  they  are  just  English  enough  to  have 
all  of  our  egotism  and  foresightedness,  with  enough 
native  shrewdness  to  hold  on  to  what  they  gain,  and 
to  be  continually  on  the  lookout  to  profit  by  others' 
failings.  Added  to  this  they  are  advancing,  while 
all  other  peoples  are  deteriorating. 

"They  are  strong  in  body,  and  absorb  all  that 
comes  into  their  country  from  any  source.  The 
terms  '  emigrant '  and  '  exile  '  sound  harshly.  They 
represent  the  enormous  outpour  of  different  blood 
that  flows  into  the  American  continent.  All  races 
intermarry  there,  and  in  that  way  a  people  can 
never  become  extinct.  The  entire  European  conti- 
nent transplants  her  sturdiest  shoots  to  American 
soil.  The  lavish  coffers  of  the  old  world  are  emptied 
of  their  choicest  gems  ;  fresh,  strong,  temperate  men 
go  from  every  part  of  the  earth  to  found  their  for- 
tunes in  the  New  World.  Physically,  America  is 


Marked  "In  Haste"  69 

bound  to  excel  every  country.  She  drains  the  civil- 
ized world  of  its  best  blood,  and  this,  mingling  with 
the  native  fluid,  makes  such  a  strengthful,  life-giv- 
ing foundation,  that  this  people  will  have  first  of 
all  the  health  to  outlive  all  other  races.  Europe  will 
be  mouldering  in  silent  dust  when  Columbia  will  be 
giving  birth  to  Spartan  sons  and  daughters.  But — 
bless  my  soul  !  what  a  harangue  !  Forgive,  but  don't 
forget.  I  am  serious  in- what  I  say." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  Beaufort,  "  you  talk  like  a 
book,  and  I  now  insist  that  when  you  have  eaten 
something  (you  have  been  neglecting  the  inner  man), 
you  tell  us  more  about  your  new  love."  A  chorus 
of  "  Hear  !  hear  !  "  interrupted  the  Earl,  and  Allani 
promised  to  answer  questions,  but  no  detailed  ac- 
count would  he  go  into.  They  turned  to  the  bill 
of  fare,  and  the  waiters  heaved  an  enormous  sigh  of 
relief.  The  idea  of  a  first-class  dinner  spoiling  while 
any  man  talked  about  any  country !  The  caviar 
had  been  on  the  table  and  was  already  a  thing  of 
the  past.  The  lamb  chops,  with  broiled  kidneys  and 
mushrooms,  were  just  being  deposited  on  the  table 
by  the  butler  previous  to  their  being  served  ;  and 
the  cheerful  sound  of  opening  bottles  began  to  give 
a  certain  zest  to  this  little  affair.  The  cellars  of  the 
Cafe  Anglais  are  famous,  and  the  choicest  vintage 
was  sacrificed  to  the  Earl's  taste  and  means.  Chateau 
Yquem  with  the  oysters  for  those  who  liked  it ; 
sparkling  Sauterne,  Johannisberg  that  would  tempt 
a  king,  Lacrime  Christi,  Rudesheimer,  and  I  don't 
know  how  many  of  the  white  wines  that  end  in 
"bergs"  and  "  heimers  " — priceless  in  value  and 


70  Marked  "In  Haste." 

exquisite  in  flavor,  were  set  before  the  guests.  The 
menu  was  elaborate  enough  for  a  royal  repast,  and 
nothing  went  \vrong. 

The  cook  should  have  had  a  V.  C.,  as  the  kidneys 
were  done  to  such  a  turn  that  the  most  exacting 
epicure  could  find  no  fault.  The  mutton  was  so  young, 
tender,  and  well  bred,  that  it  might  have  sported  as  a 
lambkin  at  Hampton  Court,  under  the  very  eyes  of 
Victoria  Regina,  her  most  gracious  majesty. 

As  usual  at  Parisian  cafes,  the  cooking  was  so 
good  one  could  get  up  an  appetite  even  if  not  at  all 
hungry,  and  believe  me,  the  dinner  ordered  by 
Beaufort  was  a  very  chef-d'auvre  of  the  cordon  bleu. 
The  Earl,  himself,  had  been  distrait.  Brandon  was  a 
bit  ceremonious,  but  Allani  was  charming,  and  Lanes- 
borough  the  very  person  that  makes  a  delightful  ad- 
dition to  any  dinner  party.  The  conversation,  strange 
to  say,  had  been  thus  far  on  America.  Allani  ex- 
pressed himself  greatly  surprised  at  Beaufort's  sudden 
interest  in  the  country  and  everything  that  pertained 
to  it.  He  little  knew  that  some  of  England's  bluest 
blood  had  throbbed  with  fierce  fervor,  only  think- 
ing on  a  fair  face  and  a  gracious  woman  who  owed 
allegiance  to  the  stars  and  stripes.  Brandon  knew 
full  well  the  reason  of  his  cousin's  sudden  attention, 
but  coldly  ignored  Allani's  half  interrogative  remarks. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  his  Lordship,  when  the  first  meat 
dish  came  on ;  "  what  do  you  think  of  American 
cities,  and  how  about  the  fair  beauties  that  are  said 
to  be  as  universal  and  numerous  as  sands  on  the  sea- 
shore ? "  Allani  laughed  pleasantly  as  he  said, 

"  Not  so  fast :  one  thing  at  a  time." 


CHAPTER  X. 

AN  ENGLISHMAN   DESCRIBES   AMERICAN   CITIES. 

"THE  cities  are  fine,  large,  and  well  populated. 
New  York,  the  largest,  is  a  world  of  bustle  and  con- 
fusion ;  the  men  look  haggard  and  worked  to  death  ; 
the  women  are  pretty,  overdressed,  and  ingenious. 
There  is  such  a  noise  and  racket  in  the  streets  that 
one  is  almost  distracted.  The  first  impression  is 
that  the  comet  has  fallen  into  the  sun,  or  that  people 
havevbut  one  day  to  live,  and  in  that  day  everything 
must  be  accomplished.  A  man  going  to  drop  a  let- 
ter into  the  post  will  tear  along  as  if  pursued.  Peo- 
ple are  momentarily  in  danger  of  their  lives,  and 
they  risk  death  to  catch  an  omnibus  two  seconds 
sooner,  losing  an  hour  perhaps,  immediately  after, 
in  a  block  in  Broadway.  There  is  no  repose,  no 
sense  of  anything  but  hurry  up,  'time  is  money.' 
At  seven  A.M.  the  streets  are  thronged,  at  nine  the 
ladies  are  dressed,  and  at  eleven  tired  nature  already 
begs  for  surcease.  People  make  visits  before  lun- 
cheon, and  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  calls  to 
commence  at  ten  A.M.  New  York  is  a  great  com- 
mercial metropolis,  and  the  society  mostly  consists 
in  the  largest  bank  accounts  charitably  pronouncing 
the  open  sesame  to  the  other  medium-sized  fortunes. 


72  Marked  ltln  Haste" 

"Wealth  rules  the  day.  No  one  without  a  great 
sufficiency  of  this  world's  goods  can  put  a  foot 
.anywhere  in  what  Gotham  calls  her  best  society. 
Another  New  York  institution  are  the  Knickerbock- 
ers. They  exist  in  Vans  and  Vinns,  Welts,  Roses, 
and  Vilts,  Hooffers,  Hoffers,  and  I  had  near  said 
Heiffers,  and  a  quantity  of  old  Holland  and  Flem- 
ish, whose  ancestors  figured  in  Washington  Irving's 
tales.  These  people  keep  generally  to  themselves, 
despise  the  society  of  filthy  lucre,  and  spend  their 
time  at  impossible  soirees,  where  they  tell,  recapi- 
tulate, and  demonstrate  the  importance  of  certain 
mouldering  bones  in  the  old  city  graveyards,  and 
their  own  special  greatness  in  being  the  lineal  de- 
scendants of  so  much  bony-fied  aristocracy.  Most 
of  these  famous  ancestors — by  the  way — were  im- 
porters of  laces  and  tobacco,  linens  or  other  dry 
goods  ;  and  it  is  really  difficult  to  appreciate  the  ex- 
act value  of  the  Knickerbocker  heraldry. 

"Brooklyn,  the 'City  of  Churches'  and  pretty 
women,  is  across  the  river  from  New  York.  It  is 
quiet,  brown-stone,  and  as  different  a  town  from 
Gotham  as  if  belonging  to  another  continent.  Phila- 
delphia is  Quaker-like,  respectable,  and  filled  writh 
people  that  wear  a  sanctimonious  garb,  hiding  from 
the  outer  world  all  of  their  deformities,  yet  manage 
to  have  the  best  time  en  cachetic  of  any  city  in  Amer- 
ica. Every  married  man  who  leaves  New  York  for 
a  spree  goes  to  Philadelphia  '  on  particular  busi- 
ness.' In  Cincinnati  they  talk  pork  and  support  mu- 
sical societies.  It  is  called  '  Porkopolis,' — by  the  way, 
an  uncommonly  good  name,  and  somewhat  sug- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  73 

gestive.  In  Chicago,  the  greatest  grain  market  in 
the  world,  there  is  rivalry  about  the  pork  trade.  In 
the  Garden  City  (as  Chicago  is  called)  the  manipu- 
lation of  the  porco  is  something  marvellous.  There 
are  great  stock-yards  near  the  city,  and  the  cattle 
come  in  to  meet  their  fate  in  thorough-bred  fashion. 
As  fine  a  hog  as  ever  squealed  comes  to  the  packing- 
houses, walks  up  a  flight  of  marble  steps,  passes 
through  machines  that  do  anything  but  resuscitate 
life,  is  killed,  scraped,  cut,  packed,  and  salted  in  less 
than  two  minutes.  In  short,  it  goes  in  a  well-to-do 
live  animal,  and  comes  out  bacon  and  tooth-picks. 
Even  the  bristles  are  utilized  in  this  great  Western 
town.  They  do  things  quickly  in  the  Garden  City. 
It  is  a  splendid  place.  Lake  Michigan  is  a  lovely 
sheet  of  water,  bounding  the  east  side;  the  parks 
are  fine,  and  there  is  not  left  a  vestige  of  the  re- 
cent great  fire.  The  people  are  whole-souled,  hand- 
some, and  the  pluckiest  on  the  continent.  With- 
out the  Yankee  indelicacy,  they  are  very  clever  in 
business  and  make  really  the  most  enterprising  city 
in  the  Union.  Chicago  is  the  fastest  place  outside 
of  New  York,  as,  naturally,  where  one  finds  the  great- 
est number  of  desirable  qualities,  one  finds  also  the 
most  concesrled  vice  ;  but  it  certainly,  taken  all  in  all, 
is  the  most  interesting  and  remarkable  city  of  the 
New  World. 

"  Boston — ah — classic  Boston  !  The  '  Hub  ! '  Boston 
is  quite  like  an  English  town,  and  besides  being  very 
intellectual,  is  also  very  avaricious.  It  is  certainly 
comme  il  faut  and  very  clean  ;  but  I  found  it  too  un- 
American  to  interest  me  specially.  They  have 
4 


74  Marked  "In  Haste." 

great  literary  lights  in  Boston,  scientific  meetings, 
guilds,  women's  righters,  and  pretend  to  the  highest 
class  of  education  in  America.  Their  afternoon  teas 
are  aesthetic  and  scientific,  and  their  '  evenings '  so 
classic  that  Aristotle  would  have  trembled  to  be 
there  in  person.  They  think  nothing  of  three  hours 
of  Homer,  another  evening  ditto  Milton,  and  another 
of  Shakespeare.  I  was  present  once  on  a  Dante 
night.  After  referring  in  a  modest  prologue,  of  an 
hour,  to  the  Inferno  and  Purgatorio,  the  reading  of 
the  evening  was  the  entire  cantos  of  //  Paradiso.  Of 
course  it  was  a  translation,  in  good  English — by-the- 
way — and  a  very  fine  effort  by  a  university  professor 
of  Cambridge.  The  expressions  that  most  interested 
everybody  were  something  like  this  :  '  Dante  looked 
into  Beatrice's  eyes,  and  was  in  the  first  heaven.'  Mur- 
mured '  oh's,  ah's,'  etc.  After  a  long  harangue  Dante 
ascends  into  the  second  heaven,  Mercury,  and  here 
more,  exclamations,  applause,  Beatrice's  beautiful  an- 
swer fully  understood,  and  a  general  idea  prevalent 
that  Mercury  would  appear  in  propria  persona,  with 
winged  heels  and  caduceus.  A  little  dissatisfaction 
when  Dante  ascends  into  the  third  heaven.  They 
know  little  of  Venere  in  Boston,  rarely  having  had  any 
female  marked  from  birth  with  all  that  goddess's 
charms  and  her  peculiar  style  of  beauty.  The  words 
'  says  I  to  him,'  and  '  says  he  to  me '  were  of  very 
frequent  recurrence.  English  is  a  language  very 
easily  understood  by  Americans,  but  the  translation 
hardly  corresponded  with  the  dulcet  Italian,  '  Jo  a 
lui ed egli a  me'  The  effect,  however,  I  suppose,  was 
quite  the  same. 


Marked  "In  Haste."  75 

"  The  triumph  of  Jesus  Christ  was  received  with 
loud  applause.  What  a  thing  to  be  a  believer  in  so 
highly  cultivated  a  city  as  the  Hub  !  It  is  a  sad 
thing,  but  great  intellects  sometimes  deny  the 
Christ.  Midnight  was  approaching  when  the  flight 
into  the  ninth  sphere  was  finally  reached — Beatrice 
still  looking  into  Dante's  eyes.  The  vision  of  the 
divine  essence  and  the  perfect  harmony  of  the  nine 
celestial  choirs  reflected  the  greatest  credit  on  the 
conductor.  Remarks  on  the  creation  were  found 
old-fogyish,  and  there  bellion  of  the  angels  was  se- 
verely condemned  by  some  fading  Venuses.  The  as- 
cent into  the  empyrean  realm  was  a  triumph  of  the 
reader's  art.  The  description  of  Beatrice  (still  an  en- 
chantress) seating  herself  upon  her  throne,  the  manda- 
tion  of  St.  Bernard  to  the  poet,  and  the  final  triumph 
of  everybody  (principally  that  of  the  audience  over 
the  reader)  finishes  with  Dante  quietly  contemplating 
God  and  the  continued  glory  of  the  heavens,  and 
the  new  remark  that  '  Beatrice  was  still  looking  into 
the  poet's  eyes.' 

"  By  this  time  the  drawing-room  intellects  were 
emancipated  from  '  //  Paradiso,'  and  I  wondered  no 
longer  at  the  lined  faces  and  heads  turned  prema- 
turely gray,  unquestionably  by  the  sorrows  of  a 
night  '  with  the  poets.'  " 

Allani  drew  a  long  breath.  He  was  tremendously 
applauded  by  his  convives.  Beaufort,  in  the  mean- 
time, had  been  quietly  replenishing  his  glass,  and  a 
slice  of  a  fine  selle  de  mouton  really  had  disappeared 
from  his  plate.  By  the  way,  do  Englishmen  ever 
dine  without  their  "  saddle  of  mutton  ? "  Habit  is 


76  Marked  "In  Haste" 

so  extraordinary  a  thing  !  It  reminds  me  of  the 
Londoner  who  drove  an  omnibus,  and  took  a  forced 
holiday  at  the  end  of  five  and  twenty  years.  He 
woke  up  the  day  of  his  release,  and  at  half-past  seven 
A.M.  thought  over  his  resources  for  enjoying  himself. 
His  quick  brain  devised  the  means.  He  went  to  his 
brother,  who  was  likewise  an  omnibus-driver,  and 
said,  "  George,  I  'ave  a  'oliday.  Let  me  drive  your 
homnibus  to-day  ;  it  goes  hin  a  different  part  of  the 
city  than  mine.  I  am  h'out  on  a  'oliday  !  " 

After  the  mutton  there  were  entremets ;  after  that 
game  of  the  season,  and  thus  the  dinner  went  on. 
All  announced  themselves  as  so  interested  in  Al- 
lani's  talk  of  America  that  they  begged  him  to  con- 
tinue. He  responded  that  he  had  nearly  finished, 
but  was  ashamed  to  monopolize  the  conversation. 
Beaufort  insisted  that  he  should  continue,  and  Lanes- 
borough  said,  "  By  Jove,  yes.  I  haven't  heard  any- 
thing so  good  in  a  long  time.  That  Boston  evening 
was  a  narrow  escape  from  premature  baldness.  Ah  ! 
let  me  congratulate  you  ! "  Allani  laughed  and  an- 
swered : 

"  I  see  you  feel  all  bound  to  say  you  like  what  I 
am  talking  about,  but  I  half  believe  that  you  are 
bored  and  won't  say  it." 

"  No  !  no  !  "  cried  the  young  men  in  chorus.  "  Go 
on  !  go  on  !  " 

"  I  left  Boston,"  said  he,  "  a  happier  and  a  wiser 
man,  but  never  repeated  my  experience  of  evenings 
with  the  classics.  Washington,  the  capital  of  the 
United  States,  is  the  most  delightful  city  in  America. 
The  society  is  like  that  in  any  great  European  centre. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  77 

The  White  House  is  quaint,  old,  and  scarcely  suit- 
able for  the  residence  of  the  President.  I  must  say 
that  its  historical  interest  is  a  great  charm,  and  that 
there  is  an  air  of  a  casa  signorile  about  it  that  exists 
in  no  other  house  in  America.  The  souvenir  of  dis- 
tinguished people  has  left  its  impress  on  everything  ; 
the  rooms,  with  their  panelled  ceilings  and  dark 
wainscoting  are,  some  of  them,  as  beautiful  as  in 
any  palace.  The  '  East  room,'  where  Washington 
held  his  receptions,  is  a  superb  apartment,  style  em- 
pire. The  only  really  harrowing  things  are  the  in- 
congruous pieces  of  furniture  and  the  carpets  that 
have  been  selected,  not  from  economy,  but  lack  of 
taste.  Washington  reminds  me  of  a  small  duchy 
where  the  reigning  prince  is  surrounded  by  his  satel- 
lites and  subjects.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  etiquette, 
and,  being  the  seat  of  Government,  society  is  brist- 
ling with  foreign  dignitaries.  There  are  diplomatic 
dinners  at  the  White  House,  diplomatic  receptions, 
army  and  navy  balls,  ladies'  afternoon  teas  most  cere- 
monious, and  a  round  of  routs,  parties,  visiting  and 
receptions,  that  keep  up  through  the  whole  of  the 
winter. 

"  It  is  a  perfectly  cosmopolitan  city,  and  I  repeat, 
delightful.  It  is  the  only  one  where  real  society 
exists  in  America.  Now  I  am  sure  you  have  had 
enough  of  American  cities.  I  must  tell  you  of " 

Beaufort  rose  and  interrupted  :  "  The  ladies,  God 
bless  them.  Of  course,  you  were  going  to  speak  of 
them?" 

Brandon  looked  at  his  cousin.  He  seemed  excited. 
He  spoke  of  the  ladies,  because  he  wished  to  toast 


78  Marked  "In  Haste." 

American  women,  in  his  heart,  to  toast  one  woman, 
Miss  Leslie.  He  evidently  was  deeply  smitten,  as  the 
whole  of  the  evening  had  been  devoted  thus  far  to 
America,  and  it  was  very  evident  that  there  would 
be  cessation  of  talk  concerning  the  New  World. 
Allani  said  : 

"  Yes,  the  ladies,  God  bless  them  !  but  no  !  (gravely) 
first  the  Queen,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  the  Royal 
Family." 

Beaufort  bowed,  but  Lanesborough  interrupted  : 

"  No  !  J  say  no  !  decidedly.  This  is  not  a  political 
dinner,  and  some  way  when  one  commences  that  re- 
gulation toast  at  this  stage  of  the  repast,  the  carriage 
is  usually  ordered  only  long  after  midnight,  and  I 
find  myself  still  repeating  :  '  I  now  propose  to  her 
Majesty  to  propose  to  the  royal  family  to  drink  my 
health  as  long  as  they  live  and  prosper,'  or  words 
to  that  effect,  No  !  no  !  let's  commence  with  the 
ladies." 

"Yes,"  said  Beaufort,  "but  I  propose  an  amend- 
ment ;  suppose  we  say,  to  the  American  ladies ! "  and 
Allani  added,  "to  American  women,  the  most  virtu- 
ous and  beautiful  in  the  world  !  " 

They  drank  standing.  Lanesborough,  when  he 
had  emptied  his  glass,  said  : 

"  The  most  beautiful,  yes,  the  most  virtuous — 
hem — that's  an  open  question  and  utterly  useless 
any  way.  If  they  are  so  beautiful,  their  other  quali- 
ties must  necessarily  be  hidden,  and  if  a  woman  only 
looks  handsome,  she  is  forgiven  a  multitude  of  sins." 

Beaufort  interrupted  with  some  warmth  : 

"  Your  schooling,  my  friend,  has  undoubtedly  been 


Marked  "In  Haste."  79 

perfection  in  its  way  ;  but  there  are  men  who  like  to 
think  their  mothers,  wives,  and  sweethearts  virtuous 
as  well  as  beautiful.  American  women  have  the  re- 
putation of  being  virtuous.  Let  us,  at  least,  give 
them  the  benefit  of  the  rumor.  But — "  courteously 
to  Allani,  "  there  is  one  thing  you  have  not  yet  told 
us.  Did  you  lose  your  heart  in  America  ? " 

Allani  was  so  taken  by  surprise  that  he  reddened, 
but  did  not  answer.  Brandon  noticed  the  change  of 
feature,  and  was  about  to  remark  it  when  Beaufort 
broke  in  : 

"Ah!  ah!  blushing!  Is  it  possible?  and  thereby 
hangs  a  tale.  Let's  have  it  by  all  means.  Mystery, 
moonlight,  a  pretty  woman — lost  a  heart,  found  by 
Allani  !  Pray  let  us  hear  the  confession.  I  never 
thought  it  of  you,  but  you've  stolen  a  march  on  us, 
my  dear  boy  ;  and  we  must  have  all  the  why's  and 
wherefore's  at  once.  " 

To  the  amazement  of  all,  Allani  looked  up  with 
hauteur  and  answered  shortly  : 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  really.  I  am  quite  willing 
to  discuss  American  women  in  general,  but  no  wo- 
man in  particular,  and  certainly  no  American." 

Lanesborough,  with  characteristic  stupidity,  said  : 

"  It's  no  use,  dear  boy  ;  you've  evidently  been  hard 
hit  by  some  United  States  belle,  and  it's  deuced 
mean  not  letting  us  into  the  jinale  of  your  affaire  de 
cxur.  Do  !  do  be  generous.  I  am  dying  to  hear  of 
a  real  American  flirtation  in  America.  They  do 
that  sort  of  thing  in  London,  Paris,  Nice,  and  the 
fashionable  watering-places  ;  but,  alas  !  no  sooner 
does  one  get  acquainted  with  a  beautiful  heiress, 


8o  Marked  "In  Haste" 

but  she  catches  Roman  fever ;  her  silver  mines 
lose  their  ore,  and  her  mother  wants  to  take  her 
back  to  some  Wall-street  broker,  to-whom  she's  been 
engaged  all  of  the  time  of  her  finishing  fti  Europe. 
He  has  lost  his  future  wife  during  two  years  !  she 
has  learned  enough  of  Paris  life  in  that  time  to  give 
him  the  full  benefit  of  the  French  matrimonial  sys- 
tem. Can't  tell  me  any  thing  about  that,  my  trh 
cher.  I  know  well  several  of  Columbia's  fairest 
daughters  and — well,  I  drink  to  their  good  health ! 
Clever  women,  d — d  clever,  and  handsome  enough 
to  have  kept  even  De  Stael's  tongue  a-wagging  for 
another  century  ;  but  to  your  tale." 

Brandon,  who  hitherto  had  been  the  silent  one  of 
the  party,  now  interposed. 

"  Do  not  think  me  ungallant,  "  said  he,  "  but  is 
there  no  other  topic  that  is  discussable  at  the  pres- 
ent moment  ?  America,  with  all  due  deference  to 
our  dear  friend,  has  provided  the  means  for  a  charm- 
ing and  highly  instructive  discourse.  We  have  drunk 
double  bumpers  to  American  women.  Pray,  if  we 
must  still  keep  on  the  subject  of  America,  let  us 
hear  something  of  American  men." 

Beaufort  interrupted  :  "  First  of  all  let  us  see  to 
the  inner  man,  not  American.  Here  is — what  ?  per- 
dreau  aux  choux,  and  a  Chdteau  Larose  that  Hebe 
might  have  decanted  a  thousand  years  ago  ;  and 
nectar  is  called  nectar  because  Hebe  poured  it  out. 
I  am  not  exactly  a  Hebe,  but  will  fill  Allani's  glass 
myself  as  a  special  reward  for  the  description  he  has 
given  us  of  the  great  New  World.  Like  Lanesbo- 
rough,  however,  I  still  believe  that  he  lost  his  heart, 


Marked  "In  Haste."  8 1 

and  beg  him,  for  the  sake  of  old  times,  to  tell  us  all 
about  it.  Allans  !  Here's  to  Allani's  experience  in 
following  Ovid's  tender  advice,  in  America." 

Allani  looked  up  and  spoke  quietly,  although  his 
voice  was  as' unsteady  as  the  reed  that  is  bowed  by 
the  wind. 

"  You  are  right ! "  said  he  slowly,  and  the  white 
fingers  tightened  around  the  slender  glass.  "  You 
are  right  but — don't  think  me  unmanly.  The  heart 
I  lost  perhaps  was  so  worthless  that,  were  it  to  be 
found,  no  one  would  take  the  trouble  to  keep  it. 
Speaking  of  American  women  brings  down  upon  me 
a  weight  of  sorrowful  recollection.  The  light  of  my 
life  has  gone  out,  and  I  am  separated  hopelessly  and 
for  ever  from  the  ideal  of  my  first  love."  As  he  said 
the  words  "separated  for  ever,"  the  slender  stem  of 
the  wine-glass  in  the  nervous  clasp  of  his  strong  fin-- 
gers  snapped  in  twain  with  an  ominous  sound,  and 
the  sparkling  wine  leaped  with  joyous  glee  into  the 
very  faces  of  the  Earl  and  his  guests. 

Allani  laughed  bitterly:  "So,"  said  he,  watching 
the  foam  as  it  disappeared,  "so  do  men's  hopes  end 
like  a  broken  glass,  the  wine  spilled  in  other  men's 
faces,  perhaps,  who  care  not  to  inhale  even  the  odor 
of  the  smallest  drop.  He  who  waits  at  the  fountain 
to  drink  of  the  crystal  waters,  when  his  glass  is  just 
filled,  starts  at  some  shadow  reflected  in  the  pool,  and 
with  the  start  his  cup  falls.  He  is  left  alone  without 
drinking.  The  shattered  remnants  of  a  once  filled 
glass  are  all  that  remains  of  his  cup  of  expected 
happiness." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"O    THE   SMELL   OF   THAT   JASMINE    FLOWER." 

IT  would  be  impossible  to  imagine  the  effect  of 
Allani's  words.  Beaufort,  whose  fine  sensibility  had 
already  been  awakened  by  his  friend's  conversation, 
found  himself  strangely  touched  at  the  abrupt  finale 
of  what  promised  to  be  a  mock  confession  of  a  love 
affair.  He  was  amazed  and  exceedingly  distressed 
at  the  turn  matters  had  taken,  yet  it  was  impossible 
to  accuse  himself  of  indelicacy  as  host.  The  whole 
thing  had  come  upon  them  like  an  avalanche,  and  no 
one  seemed  to  have  remarked  the  first  discomfiture  of 
Allani  when  badgered  as  to  his  conquests  in  America. 
Happily  the  servants  had  withdrawn,  only  the  dis- 
creet butler  stood  near  the  side-board,  purposely 
arranging  some  dishes  of  fruit.  Allani  was  soon 
himself,  although  the  others  were  still  disconcerted. 
Such  a  thing  happening  was  quite  enough  to  dampen 
the  rest  of  the  evening.  Beaufort,  thinking  in  his 
heart  as  he  did  of  one  American,  felt  most  uncomfort- 
ably impressed.  He  could  not  rid  his  mind  of  the 
constantly  recurring  idea  that  he  also  was  in  love,  and 
Allani's  unfortunate  experience  augured  something 
equally  unlucky  toward  himself.  It  was  a  bad  omen. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  83 

Why  had  they  spoken  of  America  ?  why  had  his  un- 
governable curiosity  led  him  so  far  as  to  spoil  the 
whole  evening  ?  He  tried  to  excuse  himself  ;  to  say 
that  it  was  not  curiosity,  only  his  deep,  desperate  in- 
terest in  everything  or  anything  concerning  the 
woman  he  loved.  He  no  longer  denied  to  himself 
that  he  loved  her.  He  felt  a  maddening,  helpless 
passion  taking  possession  of  him.  He  was  drawn 
into  a  whirlpool  of  amorous  hopes,  each  succeeding 
inrush  submerging  him  more  deeply. 

When  Allani  crushed  his  glass  in  his  fingers,  the 
wine  flew  in  every  direction  ;  and,  perhaps  because 
he  was  nearest,  the  greatest  quantity  splashed  in 
Beaufort's  face.  He  had  wiped  his  cheek  with  his 
handkerchief,  and  as  Allani  finished  speaking,  he 
took  it  mechanically  again  in  his  hand.  He  put  it 
to  his  face  and  half  started.  Mingled  with  the  faint 
scent  of  the  white  jasmine  was  the  sickening  odor 
of  "  dead  "  champagne.  The  combination  of  the  two 
was  stifling,  and  affected  him  in  the  same  way  as 
flowers  at  the  funeral  of  a  friend.  For  days  after,  the 
sight  and  smell  of  the  same  kind  of  blossom  is  un- 
bearable. 

Beaufort  thrust  his  handkerchief  into  his  pocket 
as  if  he  had  been  stung  by  some  recollection.  The 
unhappy  contretemps  of  Allani's  being  in  earnest 
about  a  love  affair  had  a  depressing  effect  on  the 
dinner.  Happily  it  was  near  its  end. 

Lanesborough,  at  this  critical  juncture,  came  to  the 
rescue.  He  was  a  capital  diner-out ;  and  a  diner-out  is 
equal  to  any  emergency.  He  took  in  the  situation 
fully  as  far  as  Allani  was  concerned,  but  was  some- 


84  Marked  "/«  Haste" 

what  puzzled  at  Beaufort's  distraction.  With  ad- 
mirable tact,  he  drew  the  conversation  into  a  chan- 
nel just  different  enough  not  to  startle  any  one  by  its 
abrupt  change  ;  and,  in  a  moment  more,  the  name 
America  had  ceased  to  vibrate  on  the  air.  He  began 
about  the  Opera,  and  said  he  had  met  an  artist  who 
had  an  American  wife.  "  No,  by  jove  !  she  was  from 
South  America,  not  the  same  thing.  She's  so  jealous 
of  him,"  said  he,  "that  she  knocks  at  the  green- 
room door  during  rehearsals  to  know  when  he  will  be 
ready  to  come  home.  The  other  day  she  interrupted 
the  orchestral  prova  to  call  him  off  the  stage,  because 
his  arm  was  a  shade  too  tight  around  a  prima's  waist. 
Her  husband  says  he's  sorry  he  knows  how  to  spell 
the  word  'America.'  Speaking  of  the  opera,  what 
do  you  think  of  Beaugrand's  dancing  ?  Isn't  she 
just  the  airiest  thing  in  the  world  ?  What  a  pity 
Greece  forgot  to  arrange  about  one  feature  in  her 
face  when  ordering  her  profile  !  otherwise  she  would 
be  perfection.  The  young  Ophelia  Devries  is  going 
to  leave  the  stage  and  marry— a  dentist !  Just  think 
of  it !  Whenever  I  look  at  her  now,  I  smell  creo- 
sote. She  says  she  hates  opera,  but  it  is  a  pity ;  her 
voice  and  singing  are  charming.  Why  will  she 
retire  so  early  ?  I  love  music,  and  the  opera  here  is 
splendid  in  its  ensemble.  Chorus  and  orchestra  are 
fine,  but  the  dancing,  except  that  done  by  the/r<?- 
mieres,  is  fearful. 

"To  tell  the  truth,  after  Italy,  one  can't  look  at 
other  ballets.  They  don't  know  what  the  word 
means  outside  of  Warsaw,  Milan,  and  Naples,  while  as 
to  London — well,  we  won't  speak  of  operatic  ballets  ; 


Marked  "fn  Haste"  85 

the  girls  are  sexagenarians,  have  no  idea  of  walk- 
ing in  a  straight  line,  and  they  wear  their  skirts  too 
long.  I  suppose  it's  because  the  Queen  is  so  fond  of 
Bal-moral,  eh — Beaufort  ?" 

Lanesborough's  attempt  at  wit  was  startling,  but  it 
took.  The  earl  laughed  quite  heartily,  and  said 
"  Man  ami,  you  have  always  had  a  serious  objection 
to  too  long  skirts,  and  no  one  will  quarrel  with  you 
as  to  your  little  joke  about  Balmoral.  By  Jove  ! 
they  are  a  hard-looking  lot  of  virgins." 

"  Stop  !  stop,"  interrupted  Lanesborough  ;  "I 
won't  have  them  traduced.  You  should  call  things 
by  their  proper  names.  Strictly  speaking,  I  suppose, 
only  one  woman  in  this  world  ever  bore  that  title 
with  impunity,  and  her  name  was " 

"  Mary  had  a  little  lamb,"  put  in  Brandon  jocosely, 
"  why  don't  you  start  some  nineteenth  century  sub- 
ject, my  friend?  Not  but  that  an  oft-told  tale  is 
sometimes  the  truest,  and  I  hope  none  of  us  doubt 
a  la  Voltaire  the  story  about  Bethlehem." 

The  tempting  appearance  of  the  after  vegetables 
announced  the  disappearance  of  meats.  A  sor- 
bet was  the  usual  interruption  after  the  roast,  and 
grouse  as  tender  as  old  England  could  ship  to  Paris 
lay  on  the  silver  dish  almost  untouched.  Salad  came 
and  went.  The  hot-house  asparagus  caused  some 
enthusiasm,  and  the  cheese  arriving  after  an  omelette 
souffle'e,  the  dinner  was  supposed  to  be  fairly  at  an 
end.  The  butler  here  opened  some  Cortou  '64  and 
Chambertin '72.  "I  prefer  Chambertin,"  said  Bran- 
don and  Allani,  while  Lanesborough  tried  the  Cortou 
and  the  Earl  kept  him  company  only  to  be  polite. 


86  Marked  "In  Haste" 

The  liqueurs  and  cigars  at  last  found  their  moment 
had  come.  It  was  after  ten  o'clock,  and  from  the  win- 
dow a  sight  of  the  glittering  Boulevard  was  most 
enticing.  Brandon  proposed  that  they  should  leave 
the  liqueurs  to  take  a  stroll  outside,  and  after  they 
could  drop  into  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix  to  smoke  and 
take  a  pousse-caf e.  The  proposition  was  received 
with  great  applause,  and  five  minutes  later  the  ani- 
mated couples  were  walking  rapidly  toward  the  Bon- 
apartist  resort.  Beaufort,  who  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  fatigue  of  playing  the  amiable  host,  when  his 
mind  was  in  anything  but  an  agreeable  state,  pur- 
posely walked  with  Allani.  He  had  been  most 
affected  by  the  singular  interruption  to  their  amus- 
ing lecture,  as  he  called  Allani's  remarks  on  America, 
and  he  could  not  divest  himself  of  the  idea  that 
sooner  or  later  he  would  hear  more  of  his  friend's 
love  affairs.  He-  had  the  liveliest  regard  for  Al- 
lani, and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  showed  him 
that  he  could  be  all  sympathy  without  intruding  him- 
self on  his  confidence. 

His  manner  was  soothing,  and  as  they  neared  a 
street  lamp,  they  suddenly  caught  each  other's  eyes. 
Beaufort  smiled  with  grave  meaning,  and  showed 
that  he  was  en  rapport  with  him,  for  they  were  un- 
consciously thinking  of  the  same  woman.  The  Earl 
looked  at  him  closely,  and  without  saying  a  word, 
he  slipped  the  other's  hand  into  his  arm.  There  was 
a  world  of  meaning  in  the  act.  Allani  pressed  his 
fingers  unconsciously  on  his  friend's  hand.  From 
that  time  forth  they  would  be  nearer  and  dearer,  for 
both  felt  that  the  other  had  suffered.  They  had  been 


Marked  "In  Haste"  87 

acquainted  for  years,  but  knew  each  other  only  from 
to-night.  Thus  quickly  the  bond  of  friendship  knit 
itself  in  the  case  of  these  two  men.  Ordinarily  the 
earl  would  never  have  confided  in  Allani  ;  the  other 
would  never  have  confided  in  him  ;  but,  without  a 
question  on  either  side,  they  understood  each  other, 
and  in  years  to  come  this  night's  work  would  never 
be  undone. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

ETHEL    LESLIE. 

AVENUE  MATIGNON  is  a  fashionable  street,  and  it 
is  peopled  mostly  with  foreigners.  Russians,  Span- 
iards, Hungarians,  and  Americans  pay  fabulous  sums 
for  the  pretty  apartments  and  hotels,  and  think 
themselves  lucky  to  get  in  such  a  "  swell "  part 
of  Paris.  The  house  No.  400  was  very  deep,  and 
possessed,  besides  a  decent  court,  a  fine  garden 
in  the  rear.  Miss  Leslie  lived  with  her  aunt,  or 
rather,  her  aunt  lived  with  her.  Miss  Leslie  had 
no  lack  of  this  world's  goods,  and  the  aunt  did  not 
at  all  object  to  spending  her  time  with  her  niece,  and 
the  money  that  would  otherwise  have  accumulated 
with  great  rapidity  at  the  younger  lady's  bankers. 
They  suited  each  other  very  well,  and  beyond  an 
episode  in  their  lives  that  her  aunt  could  never  quite 
recognize  as  a  fortunate  one,  they  were  happy,  and 
enjoyed  themselves  much  after  the  fashion  of  rich 
Americans  living  in  Paris. 

It  was  evening,  and  the  pretty  hotel  was  ablaze 
with  light.  Dinner  had  been  finished  for  an  hour, 
and  the  ladies  were  in  Ethel's  boudoir,  just  contem- 
plating a  splendid  fire  that  roared  in  the  open  chim- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  89 

ney,  and  Mrs.  Adrian  (the  aunt)  was  preparing  to 
make  the  tea.  They  were  alone,  and  not  at  all  dull, 
as  ladies  are  supposed  to  be  when  they  are  by  them- 
selves— although  Ethel  was  quiet  and,  as  usual  lately, 
very  contemplative.  Her  aunt  spoke  : 

"  Ethel ! " 

"Yes,  aunt." 

"  Ethel,  shall  you  go  to  the  reception  at  the  Le- 
gation on  Tuesday  ? " 

"  If  nothing  happens  in  the  interim,"  she  respon- 
ded simply  ;  "  you  know — you  know  I  go  to  the 
Latin  Quarter  to-morrow  night." 

Mrs.  Adrian's  brow  clouded. 

"  Must  you  go  ?  Let  me  be  your  substitute  for 
once.  I  am  sure  Harry  will  be  glad  to  see  me,  and 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  your  going  alone  there  so 
often.  Besides,  you  return  with  your  feelings  so 
harrowed  up  that  you  are  ill  for  a  day  after.  In  fact, 
you  are  scarcely  ever  your  old  self  now.  I  would 
give  anything  in  the  world  to  see  you  happy  and 
cheerful,  if  not  gay.  Come,  let  me  go  to  see  him 
this  time,  and  you  shall  see  how  pleased  he  will  be. 
We  will  divide  the  visits,  if  you  like  ;  only  do  not 
attempt  too  much  yourself.  You  will  break  down 
under  this  self-inflicted  task.  Think,  if  anything 
happens  to  you,  he  will  then  be  totally  deprived  of 
even  a  weekly  visit." 

The  girl  hesitated,  looked  at  her  aunt,  then  said 
softly  : 

"  Dear  Auntie,  I  realize  the  truth  of  all  that  you 
say,  but  I  cannot  deprive  him  of  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  me,  nor  myself  the  mournful  consolation  of 


90  Marked  "In  Haste" 

going  to  see  him.  You  may  accompany  me  on  some 
occasion,  however,  if  you  will,  but  not  to-morrow. 
Besides,  you  forget  I  have  Felden." 

"  By-the-way,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  "  how  does  he  ? 
Are  you  content  ?  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  as  you 
went  out  the  other  night,  and  'pon  my  soul,  he  ap- 
peared quite  a  gentleman.  I  was  surprised " 

Ethel  interposed :  "  He  does  seem  more  than  his 
position,  but  he  has  seen  better  days.  He  is  quite  un- 
presuming,  and  never  talks.  I  would  dislike  to  have 
any  gossiping  attendant,  and  I  am  really  well  pleased 
with  him.  I  only  wish  he  did  not  wear  dark  glasses  ; 
but  I  suppose  he  must.  He  says  his  eyes  were  affected 
by  the  glaciers  in  Switzerland.  Is  tea  not  ready,  dear  ? 
I  feel  quite  thirsty."  Her  aunt  looked  wisely  into  the 
pot ;  a  fragrant  odor  exhaled  ;  the  water  was  hissing 
in  the  samovar.  She  then  brewed  the  refreshing 
beverage,  and  putting  a  cosey  over  the  urn,  said  : 

"  In  one  moment,  my  love  ;  it  must  draw  a  little, 
and  I  know  just  how  you  like  your  tea."  She  clasped 
her  hands,  threw  her  head  back  a  trifle,  and  looked 
like  a  sorceress  who  was  making  a  magic  brew,  and 
awaited  the  completion  of  some  potent  charm.  She 
was  making  only  an  innocent  cup  of  tea,  yet  her 
face  assumed  an  expression  that  Hecate  might  have 
worn  when  she  said  : 

"  Great  business  must  be  wrought  ere  noon. 
Upon  a  corner  of  the  moon 
There  hangs  a  vaporous  drop  profound. 
I'll  catch  it  ere  it  come  to  ground, 
And  that,  distilled  by  magic  sleights 
Shall  raise  such  artificial  sprites 


Marked  "In  Haste"  91 

As,  by  the  strength  of  their  illusion 
Shall  draw  him  on  to  his  confusion  ; 
He  shall  spurn  fate,  scorn  death,  and  bear 
His  hopes  'bove  wisdom,  grace,  and  fear." 

Was  she  wishing  a  happier  fate  to  the  mysterious 
occupant  of  the  sixttme  in  the  Latin  Quarter,  or  was 
it  only  preoccupation  about  a  "  good  cup  "  to  soothe 
the  nerves  of  her  lovely  niece  ? 

Ethel  Leslie  was  young  and  beautiful,  with  every 
charm  that  woman  may  possess.  As  she  sat  in  front 
of  the  fire,  the  light  from  the  blazing  wood  shining 
full  in  her  face,  she  was  a  study  that  Rembrandt  him- 
self might  have  wishedS;o  reproduce.  She  was  slight, 
of  average  stature,  with  a  form  just  budding  into 
womanhood.  She  sat  back  in  her  chair,  with  her 
shapely  feet  poised  on  the  fender,  and  a  dinner  robe 
of  amber  silk  trailed  its  shining  folds  on  the  rich 
carpet.  Her  corsage  was  cut  low  and  was  filled  in 
with  some  lace  than  which  a  cobweb  seemed  less 
fine.  Her  features  were  statuesque  in  repose,  and  as 
clearly  cut  as  a  cameo.  She  resembled  the  statue  of 
Psych6  in  the  public  garden  at  Naples,  more  especi- 
ally in  her  low  brow  and  beautifully  curved  mouth. 
Her  eyes  were  almond-shaped,  a  dark  hazel,  with  the 
deep  violet  tint.  They  were  often  deeper  and  blacker, 
but  never  any  lighter.  Her  hair  was  a  chestnut 
brown,  with  a  golden  glimmer  on  the  locks  which 
waved  away  from  the  temples.  When  loosened  it  fell 
in  curling  masses  far  below  her  waist,  and  was  so 
voluminous  in  quantity  that  it  was  the  despair  of 
hairdressers.  She  rolled  it  at  the  back  of  her  dainty 
head  ;  yet,  in  spite  of  golden  pins  here  and  there,  a 


92  Marked  "In  Haste'1 

long  lock  escaped  and  curled  in  beautiful  careless- 
ness on  her  shoulder.  It  looked  so  pretty  against  the 
amber  of  her  gown,  that  one  was  tempted  to  caress 
it,  as  she  did  herself  when  she  unconsciously  wound 
it  round  her  fingers.  Her  complexion  was  fair  and 
pale  ;  not  the  slightest  shade  of  color  tinted  her 
cheek  ;  her  dark  lashes  threw  her  eyes  into  still 
deeper  shadow ;  her  brows  were  finely  arched,  but 
haughty  ;  and  her  ears,  guiltless  of  ornament,  were 
like  pink  shells  stranded  on  a  coral  reef.  Her  face 
was  one  of  perfect  beauty,  and  endowed  with  the 
rarer  charm  of  intelligence  and  heart.  It  bore  the 
expression  of  simplicity  and  innocence  that  is  seen 
in  the  Carlo  Dolce  madonnas. 

Oh,  greatest  of  all  gifts,  beauty !  Madame  de 
Stael  had  counted  the  cost  when  she  offered  half 
her  knowledge  for  a  few  personal  charms,  and  would 
consider  them  cheaply  bought. 

Mrs.  Adrian,  a  fine  woman  of  about  forty,  was  one 
of  those  whole-souled,  good-hearted  people  who  are 
a  legacy  to  any  family.  She  was  sufficiently  well- 
bred  to  appear  well  in  any  society,  and  being  with- 
out nerves,  was  a  reposeful  person  to  have  near. 
Some  people  absorb  all  the  vitality  one  has,  others, 
by  their  very  presence,  stimulate  and  rest  one.  Ethel 
loved  her  aunt,  but  above  all  did  she  feel  perfectly  at 
ease  and  unconstrained  when  with  her.  The  fine 
harmony  that  sometimes  exists  between  instruments 
of  roughest  wood  and  finest  finish  explains  exactly 
the  perfect  accord  between  these  two.  Miss  Leslie 
was  the  "  finest  string  on  the  harp."  Mrs.  Adrian  had 
so  little  fineness  in  her  composition  that  she  never 


Marked  "In  Haste"  93 

offended  by  discord  in  any  way,  being  a  perfectly 
matter-of-fact  woman.  She  never  attempted  to  ex- 
plain impossible  things,  and  never  jarred  on  her 
niece's  feelings. 

Mrs.  Adrian  handed  the  tea.  Ethel  took  the  little 
Sevres  cup  in  her  hand,  and  was  just  about  to  drink 
as  the  bell  rang. 

"Visitors,"  said  the  aunt,  tranquilly. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  responded  the  niece.  Then  the 
footman  presented  some  cards.  Miss  Leslie  looked 
at  them  languidly,  then,  on  reading  the  names,  said, 
with  more  interest  than  she  had  hitherto  displayed  : 

"  Yes,  we  are  at  home.  Show  the  gentlemen  in 
here."  And  as  he  retired  she  half  straightened  up  and 
prepared  to  receive  their  guests.  The  door  opened, 
and  two  young  men  appeared  on  the  threshold. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  Gratiot,"  said  Madame,  with  a 
warm  smile,  "  and — and  Mr.  Blakeman.  Is  it  pos- 
sible ?  How  pleased  I  am  to  see  you.  Ethel,"  turn- 
ing to  her  niece,  "  Ethel,  here  is  an  old  friend  ;  quite 
a  surprise,  and  you  are  both  just  in  time  for  tea." 

Ethel  leaned  quite  forward  and  prettily  held  out  a 
hand  to  each.  "  So  glad  to  see  you,"  to  Mr.  Gratiot ; 
"and  you,"  turning  to  Blakeman,  "when  did  you 
arrive  from  Italy  ?  " 

"  Last  night,"  he  responded,  pleasantly  ;  "  and 
you  see,  my  first  duty  is  no  duty,  but  a  pleasure  t6 
come  and  pay  my  respects.  And  you,  madame," 
turning  to  Mrs.  Adrian,  "  how  fares  the  amiable  Mrs. 
Adrian,  and  has  she  renewed  her  threats  of  leaving 
Paris  ?  I  hope  not.  It's  really  the  only  city  in  the 
world,  and  although  I  am  a  fanatic  on  the  subject  of 


94  Marked  "In  Haste" 

Italian  sunsets,  I  still  give  up  anything  to  live  in  la 
ville  du  monde." 

"  I  sha'n't  answer  a  question  till  you  have  some 
tea,"  said  Madame,  complacently  ;  "  or  would  you 
prefer  something  stronger  ? "  and,  without  waiting 
for  his  words,  she  leaned  toward  Mr.  Gratiot. 

"Touch  the  bell,  mon  ami"  said  she,  "  and  we  will 
soon  have  something  more  to  the  taste  of  young 
men  ! " 

"I  will  ring,"  said  he,  "with  pleasure  ;  but  you 
know  I  adore  tea.  In  fact,  there  is  only  one  thing 
served  up  as  refreshment  in  Paris,  in  the  evening, 
that  I  object  to.  It  is  eau  de  groseille,  in  battered 
English  currently  known  as  currant-water.  I  was 
glad  enough  to  get  some  when  we  were  with  the 
ambulance  ;  although  Dr.  Janeson  insists  that  the 
Prussian  bullet  was  less  fatal.  Think  of  dancing  all 
night  and  drinking  a  little  poor  jelly  in  lime  water  ! 
then,  as  the  cotillon  is  fairly  underway,  one  has  a  cup 
of  hot  soup  stuck  under  the  nose." 

He  took  his  tea,  and  Ethel  interrupted  :  "  Yes,  it  is 
funny.  I  shall  never  forget  my  first  soiree  nor  the 
anxiety  with  which  I  waited  for  midnight.  No 
American  suppers,  no  delicious  sandwiches,  no  iced 
champagne — only  weak  currant  water,  fruit  from 
bushes  that  had  never  been  grafted,  some  sweet 
wafers  that  looked  like  galvanized  cobwebs,  and 
some  bouillon,  that  reminds  one  of  hospital  fare  for 
the  beggars  waiting  outside  of  some  orphan  asylum. 
I  suppose,"  with  a  little  sigh,  "  it  is  more  wholesome, 
but  it  never  seems  to  take  the  place  of  real  supper 
at  a  ball,  with  ices,  meats " 


Marked  "In  Haste"  '    95 

"  Chicken  salad,"  interrupted  Blakeman. 

"  And  a  jolly  good  lot  of  champagne  punch,"  broke 
in  Gratiot. 

Ethel  laughed.  "  How  American  we  are,  to  be 
sure,"  said  she,  simply.  "I  wonder  if  we  will  ever 
forget  the  good  old  times  we  had  in  the  States  ? " 

Mrs.  Adrian  spoke  : 

"  Of  course  we  never  will  forget,  but  why  shouldn't 
we  have  some  punch  in  Paris  as  well  as  in  America  ? 
I  am  sure  of  myself,  and  have  not  (through  a  long 
residence  abroad)  lost  my  old  art  of  concocting  a  de- 
lectable drink." 

"Punch  and  tea,"  said  Blakeman,  "charming; 
but  who's  going  to  drink  punch,  and  who  tea  ?  I, 
for  one,  am  in  favor  of  the  former,  but  do  not  let  me 
be  the  arbitrator.  You  know,  Mrs.  Adrian  (slyly),  no 
one  could  withstand  the  hope  held  out  to  have  some 
of  your  delicious,  old-time " 

The  door  opened.  While  the  gentleman  had  been 
talking,  Mrs.  Adrian  had  rung  the  bell.  Henri,  the 
chief  footman,  stood  awaiting  orders.  Mrs.  Adrian 
said  : 

"Light  in  the  salle  &  manger.  Prepare  the  large 
punch  bowl,  and  put  the  usual  wines  on  the  side- 
board. We  want  some  sandwiches,  fruit,  and " 

"Great  heavens,"  interrupted  Blakeman,  "but 
we  have  just  dined,  or  I  have." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Gratiot. 

Mrs.  Adrian  interposed  :  "  Not  so  sure  about  that ! 
What  time  is  it  now  ?  " 

"  It  has  just  struck  ten,"  said  Ethel. 

"Well,  you  dined  at  seven,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  "so 


96  Marked  "In  Haste" 

did  we  ;  but  Ethel  didn't  eat  a  mouthful,  while  I — 
well !  my  appetite  is  usually  fair,  but  when  she 
makes  such  a  farce  of  eating,  I  haven't  the  heart  to 
dine  alone." 

Gratiot  went  up  to  the  young  lady,  he  took 
her  hand,  and  looked  her  seriously  in  the  face  : 

"  What  is  this  story  about  not  eating  ?  Do  you 
wish  to  break  down  entirely  ?  Now  try  and  please 
me.  Do  make  an  effort  to  take  food,  and  don't  fret 
so  much."  He  spoke  in  an  undertone.  Blakeman, 
the  while,  was  talking  with  the  aunt. 

"  I  am  not  fretting  more  than  usual,"  said  she, 
faintly,  "  but  how  can  I  eat  when  food  chokes 
me?" 

'"  Think  of  some  one  else,"  said  he  quietly.  "  Re- 
member you  are  the  only  stay  to  one  lonely  heart." 

"  Is  there  any  news  ?  "  She  spoke  hurriedly,  and 
looked  eagerly  in  his  face.  He  hesitated. 

"  There  is  no  bad  news,  so  that  already  is  good,  is 
it  not  ? "  He  looked  at  her  with  affectionate  solici- 
tude. She  pressed  his  hand  : 

"You  are  so  kind,"  she  murmured  ;  "  what  should 
I  do  without  you  ?  I  will  try  to  keep  my  spirits  up  ; 
and  allons  !  I  will  drink  some  punch  and,  to  please 
you,  take  even  a  sandwich."  Blakeman's  cheerful 
voice  broke  in  : 

"  Why  won't  it  do  ?  Of  course  it  will,  and  we 
shall  feel  so  much  more  like  taking  something  after. 
Miss  Ethel,  I  am  just  telling  Mrs.  Adrian  that  we 
ought  to  go  out.  The  evening  is  perfectly  lovely, 
arid  Paris  is  such  a  picture.  I  know  your  old  habit 
of  driving  about  at  night."  She  started  and  looked 


Marked  "In  Haste"  97 

at  him,  but  he  went  on  all  unconscious.  "We  might 
go  to  see  the  panorama  or  hear  the  end  of  a  sacred 
concert.  It  is — no,  it  has  been  Sunday  to-day.  Or, 
better  still,  we  might  take  a  fiacre,  and  drive  as  far 
as  the  entrance  to  the  Bois  and  back,  or  go  the  Boule- 
vard way.  If  you  won't  drive,  why,  let  us  drop  into 

Madame  L 's,  who  receives  every  Sunday  night. 

Or " 

"  Stop  !  stop,"  cried  Ethel,  laughing,  "you  take  my 
breath  away.  I  object  not  to  all,  but  to  some  of  the 
programme  ;  and  first  look  at  me."  He  looked  very 
admiringly,  and  interrupted,  "  Charmante,  ma  belle 
dame,  as  usual." 

"  No,"  she  smiled,  "  I  did  not  mean  that.  I  am  in 
evening  dress.  We  are  both  en  toilette.  How  is  it 
possible  to  go  out?  yet  the  fine  night  half  tempts  me. 
Is  there  a  moon  ?" 

"  Is  there  a  moon  ?"  he  responded,  echoing  her 
voice,  "of  course  there's  a  moon.  There  always  is 
a  moon  when  a  fair  lady  requires  her,  but  I  am  seri- 
ous ;  there  hasn't  been  such  a  night  in  Paris,  to  my 
knowledge,  in  an  age.  Do  say  you  will  come,  and 
then  after  our  return  we  will  test  the  capacity  of  the 
punch  bowl,  the  quality  of  the  cellar,  the  sandwiches, 
and  everything  else  that  Mrs.  Adrian  so  well  knows 
how  to  provide  impromptu"  Ethel  looked  at  her 
aunt. 

"  Dear  child, "  said  the  latter,  interpreting  her 
glance,  "certainly,  if  it  will  please  you.  We  can 
soon  be  ready  ;  and  in  the  meantime,  find  your  way," 
turning  to  the  gentlemen,  "  to  the  billiard-room,  and 
have  some  cigars.  Henri  will  get  a  fiacre,  and  we 
5 


98  Marked  "/«  Haste" 

will  run  away  to  dress."  The  footman  appeared  in 
answer  to  her  ring.  "  A  carriage,"  said  she,  "and 
call  Mademoiselle's  maid  at  once."  "  Madame  seems 
to  have  forgotten,"  said  the  footman,  "that  the  car- 
riage is  at  the  door.  It  was  ordered  for  this  even- 
ing at  ten." 

"Of  course,  I  had  quite  forgotten,"  said  Ethel, 
"  we  were  going  to  a  dear  friend  who  is  always  at 
home  on  Sunday.  Now  we  will  drive  instead.  I 
will  be  with  you  directly."  She  arose  and  was  really 
animated  at  the  thought  of  going  out.  Mr.  Gratiot 
was  charmed  to  see  her  so  willing  to  be  diverted. 
He  looked  half  jealously  at  Blakeman,  who  had  the 
happy  inspiration  to  think  of  anything  that  would 
please  her.  She  had  ordered  the  carriage,  to  be 
sure  ;  but  it  would  come  and  be  sent  away  again.  It 
was  what  she  did  almost  every  day.  Make  plans  for 
her  own  diversion,  then  sit  dreamily  before  the  fire, 
for  hours,  thinking  of  her  unhappy  lot,  and  brood- 
ing, brooding  ever  on  what  was  least  pleasant  in  her 
existence.  One  thing  she  never  forgot,  her  visit  to 
the  Latin  Quarter.  No  matter  what  the  weather, 
she  was  punctual  in  there.  On  other  days  she  ap- 
peared downcast  and  irresolute,  but  when  that  hour 
came,  she  was  all  firmness  and  full  of  woman's  beau- 
tiful courage.  Some  natures  come  out  strongest 
in  moments  of  the  greatest  need.  Miss  Leslie  could 
"  screw  her  courage  to  the  sticking  point,"  when 
necessary,  and  never  once  would  it  falter  or  prove 
inadequate.  % 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A   MOONLIGHT   DRIVE. 

IN  a  moment  she  returned,  attired  in  a  walking 
suit  of  dark  cloth,  and  Mrs.  Adrian  being  ready,  the 
party  soon  set  out. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ? "  said  Madame. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  please  me  ? "  said  Ethel  quickly. 

"Yes,"  her  aunt  replied,  "if  you  will  be  reason- 
able." 

"  Reasonable  ! "  said  Mr.  Blakeman  ;  "  as  if  our 
dear  friend  could  ever  be  aught  else.  But  what  is  it 
to  be,  panorama  or  promenade  ? " 

"Promenade,  by  all  means,"  she  answered.  "  Let 
us  drive  to  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  then  over  the 
other  side,  and  drive  up  and  down  by  the  Seine  on 
the  route  to  Auteuil  and  back.  Nothing  could  be 
more  lovely  on  a  moonlight  night  ;  and  it  will  not 
be  too  far.  The  carriage  will  be  open,  and " 

"We  shall  freeze,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Adrian. 
"  How  can  you  think  of  going  so  far  ?  I  fear  only 
for  your  health,  my  love,"  she  added  amiably,  "for 
you  see  the  air  is  already  a  little  chill,  and  coming  out 
of  a  warm  room.  However,  what  pleases  you  will 
charni  me,  and  I  know  the  gentlemen  won't  object." 


ioo  Marked  "In  Haste." 

"  Object !  "  said  Gratiot,  "I  should  think  not  ;  only 
don't  let  us  stop  at  Auteuil." 

Blakeman  spoke  up  significantly  :  "  You  see,  dear 
Mrs.  Adrian,  he  is  afraid  of  the  water-cure.  But  don't 
be  alarmed,"  turning  toward  him,  "  I  will  see  that 
we  have  very  little  water-cure  to-night.  I  am  not  so 
ungallant  as  to  wish  our  drive  over,  but  I  know  of 
one  who  will  do  ample  justice  to  the  punch  when  we 
return." 

"  I  hope  you  will  all  do  justice  to  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Adrian  ;  "  I  should  take  it  as  a  personal  affront  if 
every  drop  does  not  disappear  when  once  I  take  the 
trouble  to  brew  it  my  best  and — 

"And,  auntie  dear,"  broke  in  Ethel,  "to  pay  you 
for  good-humoredly  allowing  my  caprice,  I  will  drink 
my  share,  and  not  forget  how  kind  you  are  to  your 
little  niece  ;  also,  that  no  one  in  this  world  can  brew 
punch  as  you  can." 

By  this  time  they  were  well  started  toward  Place 
de  la  Concorde. 

"Oh!  the  heavenly  beauty  of  this  night  !"  said 
Blakeman.  "Why  can  painters  never  reproduce, 
with  any  fidelity,  the  most  majestic  of  all  sights.  The 
queen  of  night  riding  high  in  the  heavens,  her  light 
silvering  terrestrial  objects  with  an  attenuated,  ghost- 
ly, yet  warm  radiance.  Everything  in  painting  has 
reached  some  degree  of  perfection,  but  art  has  utterly 
failed  to  reproduce  the  reality  of  a  moonlight  night." 

Ethel  said  after  pausing  a  moment :  "  I  do  not 
know  but  you  are  right ;  still  the  young  Italian 
artist  in  London,  de  Nittis,  paints  night-scenes  with 
fair  skill." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  101 

"Yes,"  said  Blakeman,  "  more  than  fair  ;  but  no 
matter  how  fine  the  picture,  the  charm  of  real  moon- 
light is  lacking.  He  paints  smoke  and  fog,  dull 
lights  on  the  Thames,  and  shows  London  as  it  is  in 
some  places,  with  real  truthfulness  ;  but  the  glori- 
ous splendor  of  such  a  night  as  this,  for  instance,  I 
fear  me  will  never  be  transferred  to  canvas." 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Gratiot,  "who  wants 
this  night  on  canvas  ?  Is  it  not  much  better  here  ? 
I  would  not  have  it  transferred  for  anything." 

"  Scoffer,"  said  Miss  Leslie,  playfully;  "  it  is  such 
natures  as  thine  that  hold  us  down  to  everyday 
life  ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  delightful  to  enjoy  things  ex- 
actly as  they  are.  Now,  with  all  due  deference  to 
both  of  you,  gentlemen,  I  can  imagine  no  greater 
trial  than  to  be  born  without  artistic  instinct,  but 
with  an  artistic  mania.  An  ordinary  worm  travelling 
its  contented  pace  under  foot,  is  by  the  poet  trans- 
formed, first,  into  a  fire-fly,  then  into  a  lamp,  then 
into  a  meteor,  and  next " 

"Into  an  electric  light,"  laughed  Mr.  Blakeman. 

"Exactly  so,"  said  she.  "A  good  sign-painter 
leaves  his  native  country  to  study  art  here  at  Les 
Beaux  Arts,  or  in  Italy.  ,  After  a  year  of  drawing 
blocks,  he  takes  up  the  nude  model  and  is  amazed  to 
find  that  the  limbs  will  get  out  of  shape,  that  the 
head  is  badly  poised,  that  the  fingers  are  too  long, 
and  the  joints  very  badly  made.  Instead  of  regret- 
ting that  he  ever  attempted  more  than  his  first 
ambition,  the  longer  he  works  and  the  worse  he 
does,  the  more  is  he  fired  by  fame's  delusive  beacon. 
He  finds  the  models  all  bad — they  move  at  their  sit- 


IO2  Marked  "In  Haste" 

tings,  their  drapery  is  wrong,  and  their  feet  large. 
He  next  tries  interiors,  with  no  better  luck.  After 
that  portraits,  of  course  ;  and  when  ten  or  twenty 
years  have  fled,  he  finds  that  he  has  never  enjoyed 
himself  so  much  as  in  America,  where  his  dancing 
Bacchantes  illuminate  some  lager-bier  signs,  or  his 
fine  panel  portraits  showed  to  advantage  in  the  horse- 
cars  or  the  omnibus.  He  has  made  Christs  ;  but  the 
strict  Romish  churches  have  already  been  provided. 
There  are  so  many  masterly  Murillos,  tender  Tinto- 
rettos,  gentle  Guides,  beautiful  Bellinis,  and  vic- 
torious Vincis  about,  that  an  honest,  hard-working 
sign-painter  cannot  get  a  chance  to  do  even  a  back 
altar  in  a  country  town  cathedral." 

"Peace,  peace,  woman,"  said  Blakeman,  holding 
up  his  hands  ;  "  remember  I  belong  to  the  craft,  and 
my  last " 

"Your  last,"  she  interrupted,  "is  unfinished,  not 
unhandsome,  and  the  very,  very  thing  that  I  have 
saved  a  corner  in  my  boudoir  for.  But  as  to  other 
branches  of  art,  really,"  and  turning  to  Mrs.  Adrian 
with  a  laughing  face,  "  you  must  let  me  continue. 
You  started  me  on  the  subject,  and  if  I  don't  have 
my  say  out  you  will  all  regret  it,  as  in  after  years  I 
am  quite  capable  of  taking  up  the  same  theme,  and 
just  where  I  now  leave  off.  To  return " 

"Then,"  said  the  gentlemen  in  a  breath,  "we  will 
permit  you  now  to  proceed.  Such  a  fate  to  look 
forward  to  would  be  horrible,  and  we  may  be  in 
New  York  taking  stock  in  the  proposed  elevated 
roads." 

"  It  would  not  surprise  me,"  she  said  simply;  "  you 


Marked  "In  Haste."  103 

always  take  to  anything  '  elevated.'  But  to  resume  : 
Where  was  I  ?  oh,  yes " 

"  I  am  a  capital  hand  at  prompting,"  said  the  ar- 
tist ;  "  when  your  breath  gives  out,  or  you  stop  from 
any  unknown  cause,  I  will  unobtrusively  murmur  the 
cues.  The  last  word  was  '  cathedral.'  " 

"  Cathedral,"  she  repeated  with  emphasis. 

"  Period,"  said  Gratiot. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  absurd  ?  "  said  she  ;  "  but  I 
will  go  on  in  spite  of  these  interruptions.  The  next 
mania  is  music.  We  will  leave  out  violin  and  piano, 
as  failures  in  either  case  are  hopeless  ;  but  the 
voice " 

"My  love,"  said  her  aunt,  "you  mention  voice; 
pray  think  of  your  own  ;  you  will  be  hoarse,  not  to- 
morrow, but  to-night,  and  you  will  need,  at  this  rate, 
to  say  a  few  words  at  supper." 

"At  least,"  said  Mr.  Gratiot,  "we  hope  to  hear  a 
few  words  whenever  Mademoiselle  is  good  enough 
to  talk  ;  but  she  must  go  on  now,  the  subject  of  mu- 
sic is  inexhaustible.  We  can  go  to  Auteuil  and  back 
again,  and  she  will  only  have  commenced  the  pre- 
lude." 

"Music,"  said  Miss  Leslie — "no,  a  voice  is  the  su- 
premest  of  all  of  nature's  gifts.  I  " —  she  shivered. 

"My  dear,"  said  her  aunt  with  firmness,  "it  is 
getting  too  chill  to  drive,  and  I  insist  on  our  going 
in.  We  are  far  past  the  Champ  de  Mars,  it  is  eleven 
o'clock.  Let  us  return  and  finish  the  discussion 
there.  While  I  brew  the  champagne  cup,  you  may 
have  full  opportunity  of  uttering  your  heresies  at 
your  own  ease  and  that  of  everybody  else.  Gentle- 


104  Marked  "In  Haste" 

men,"  appealing  to  her  companions,  "am  I  not 
right  ? " 

"Certainly,"  they  made  answer,  "quite  right,  now 
and  ever,  Mrs.  Adrian.  I  think  even  your  poor  sign- 
painter's  most  despised  interior  would  not  be  at  all 
unappreciated  at  the  present  moment.  It  is  cold, 
by  George,  and  the  Seine,  although  frozen  over  with 
moonlight,  looks  uncommonly  chilly,  and  there  is  a 
wind  coming  up  strong  enough  to  blow  away  even 
my  prejudices  against  my  native  country." 

"That,"  said  Mr.  Gratiot,  "would  be  quite  impos- 
sible. I  will  allow  exaggeration,  but  not  ruthless 
blasphemy.  It  would  be  a  sin  to  judge  your  own 
firmness  so  lightly  ;  and  this  wind,  on  the  contrary,  is 
limited  ;  your  prejudices  are  not." 

"  Let  us  go  as  far  as  poor  Marie  Antoinette's  tower, 
and  then  I  will  return  willingly,"  said  Mademoiselle. 
"  I  promise  not  to  speak  one  word  in  the  meantime? 
and  you  know  that  that  is  a  great  sacrifice  on  my 
part,  considering  I  have  so  eloquent  a  lecture  on 
voice  cut  and  dried,  and  ready — 

"  Like  the  sweetest  herbs,"  interrupted  Mr.  Blake- 
man,  "  to  be  hung  up  in  the  garret  for  winter." 

They  drove  along  the  quay  and  reached  the  old 
Palais,  or  Conciergerie,  where  the  lovely  Austrian 
spent  her  last  night  on  earth.  The  view  from  this 
point  is  very  splendid,  and  especially  at  night.  The 
place  is  invested  with  a  mournful  charm.  The  wa- 
ters of  the  Seine  glide  on  peaceably,  without  a  hint 
as  to  the  time  when  boats  flew  across  their  dull  cur- 
rent ,  bearing  human  beings  whose  life-blood  was 
so  soon  to  redden  the  old  Place  de  la  Grcve.  The 


Marked  "In  Haste"  105 

little  round  tower  of  the  Conciergerie  is  lighted  up  by 
two  grated  windows,  one  on  each  floor,  and  from  be- 
hind these  upper  bars  Marie  Antoinette  watched  the 
ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide  that  would  go  on  when  she 
was  gone  and  forgotten.  Her  voice  at  night  was 
lost  in  the  murmurs  of  the  mysterious  waters,  and 
her  sad  last  communings  on  earth  were  with  the 
heartless  Seine.  Water — the  most  merciless  of  all 
elements,  but  not  then  so  merciless  as  the  maddened 
mob  who  foresaw  not  its  own  dissolution,  when  the 
guillotine  first  groaned  beneath  the  Revolution's  vic- 
tims. 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  Miss  Leslie  looked  long 
at  the  old  tower. 

"  I  can  half  fancy,"  said  she,  "on  a  night  like  this, 
that  we  shall  see  the  Queen  come  through  one  of 
the  windows  ;  that  her  fair  hair  will  float  on  the 
wind — a  veil  to  hide  her  from  her  enemies  ;  that 
her  face  will  be  illumined  by  her  martyrdom  ;  that 
her  eyes  will  burn  like  the  stars  of  Bethlehem  ;  and 
that  her  raiment  will  be  wafted  through  the  arched 
vault  of  heaven,  as  a  bird  whose  wings  may  cleave 
empyrean  space.  Her  hands  will  bear  an  olive- 
branch  ;  her  feet  will  spurn  the  gloomy  tower  where 
her  days  and  nights  and  miseries  were  long  synony-. 
mous,  and  her  tortured  body,  clothed  with  eternal 
peace  and  light,  shall  vanish  before  the  eyes  of  the 
faithful — the  fairest  lily  that  ever  left  a  field  crim- 
soned with  the  best  blood  of  France." 

"  Amen  ! "  said  Blakeman,  heartily.  "  Indeed,  one 
can  well  understand  your  illusions.  Every  inch  of 
this  part  of  Paris  is  mystically  historic.  It  is  impos- 
5* 


106  Marked  "ftt  Haste" 

sible,  even  in  the  most  prosaic  of  every-day  life,  not 
to  be  overcome  with  the  charm  and  memory  of  the 
past.  From  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  to  the  furthest 
quay  of  the  Seine,  the  very  stones  are  souvenirs. 
Think  that  where  we  are  now  looking,  the  noblest 
eyes  of  France  have  oft  and  fondly  gazed  ;  where  our 
feet  tread,  other  feet  have  gone  to  meet  a  terrible  and 
unmerited  death — their  forward  footsteps  steeped  in 
the  freshly-flowing  blood  of  their  best  loved  friends. 
These  massive  buildings,  with  arabesques  and  coro- 
netted  stones,  have  hidden  with  cold  unscrupulous- 
ness,  scenes  of  the  direst  misery  aud  horror.  This 
river,  that  seems  a  lak'e  of  crystal  silver,  hides  bones 
whose  dust  should  have  been  sacred,  and  keeps  se- 
crets that  the  greatest  of  all  alchemists  would  give  a 
life-time  to  unravel.  Every  tree,  every  bit  of  green, 
of  moss,  or  sea- weed,  still  lives  in  the  past,  and  the 
grim  buildings  whose  stones  gather  rot  and  mildew, 
speak  of  the  millions  of  human  lives  that  have  con- 
secrated this  great  city." 

"Enough,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  "of  too  touching 
reminiscences.  Paris  is,  and  always  will  be,  the  most 
interesting  city  in  the  world,  with  London  historic- 
ally the  richest.  Let  us  look  at  the  other  side  of  the 
picture.  What,"  turning  to  Mr.  Gratiot,  "do  you 
see  on  looking  at  the  Palais  des  Tuileries  ?  " 

They  were  just  opposite  the  ruins  of  the  once 
beautiful  castle. 

"  I  see,"  said  Gratiot,  shading  his  eyes  with  a 
hand,  as  if  looking  on  a  mental  panorama,  "  I  see  a 
ball-room  with  myriads  of  lights,  thousands  of  peo- 
ple, and  at  one  end  a  raised  dais  or  throne.  A  lovely, 


Marked  "In  Haste"  107 

fair  woman  stands  beside  her  imperial  lord,  and  at 
their  right  a  young  lad,  whose  face  reflects  the  fa- 
ther's blood  and  the  mother's  image.  The  lady  comes 
forward,  her  person  aglow  with  jewels.  Diamonds 
of  the  purest  water  gleam  in  her  crown  ;  emeralds, 
rubies,  and  sapphires  emit  a  thousand  prismatic  lights, 
and  the  front  of  her  stomacher  is  studded  with  more 
gems.  Her  blonde  hair  falls  in  ringlets  to  her  slen- 
der waist  ;  her  violet,  almond-shaped  eyes  beam  with 
mild  radiance  on  her  guests  ;  her  complexion  glows 
with  health  ;  her  bare  arms  and  bosom  shame  the 
Parian  marble  in  their  whiteness,  and  her  robe  of 
emerald-green  velvet,  with  ermined  train,  sweeps  over 
the  mosaic  with  the  soft  undulations  of  an  Andalu- 
sian  zephyr.  Yes,  I  see  the  Empress  Eugenie,  as 
one  rarely  saw  her,  although  her  eyes'  clear  depths 
were  already  half  troubled  with  the  too  studied  polite- 
ness of  the  German  Ambassador,  and  the  radiant 
Princess  Metternich  seemed  a  trifle  trap  au  courant 
with  politics  to  hide  from  her  speaking  face  the 
knowledge  of  an  imminent  catastrophe.  The  Em- 
peror'looks  to  right  and  left  with  perfect  equanimity. 
The  little  Prince  Imperial  talks  with  charming  naivett 
to  the  surrounding  courtiers,  and  the  Empress  still 
walks  and  mingles  with  her  guests  with  her  rare 
grace  of  manner.  I  see  the  end  of  the  ball ;  the  lights 
burning  in  the  glittering  banquet-hall  reflect  grim 
shadows  in  the  mirrors  ;  the  tables  groan  less  with 
their  load  of  viands  and  ices  ;  and  I  see  the  flowers 
drooping  their  heads,  scorched  and  withered  un- 
timely by  a  feverish  heat.  Then  one  by  one  the 
guests  depart.  The  Empress  still  smiles  from  her 


io8  Marked  "In  Haste" 

dais,  her  weary  head  still  royally  bears  her  crown, 
and  the  diamonds  flash  from  her  stomacher  with  the 
same  radiance.  Then  the  scene  changes.  The  guests 
become  vampires,  the  lights  incendiate  the  palace, 
the  wine  flows  in  poison  and  blood.  The  Emperor 
flies  from  his  apartment,  the  Empress  is  clothed 
in  black,  the  little  Prince  has  grown  years  older  in 
a  single  night.  I  see  a  royal  lady  escape  from  the 
burning  Tuileries.  I  hear  the  rush  and  roar  of  the 
maddened  Commune  three  months  later,  and  I  live 
over  again  the  horrible  nights  of  January,  1871." 

He  ceased  speaking.  Mrs.  Adrian  looked  up  with 
a  determined  countenance,  and  said  : 

"  I  am  quite  willing  that  you  should  see  all  of 
those  things,  as  you  were  here  then,  and  we  not ;  but  I 
prohibit  you  both  from  calling  up  such  sad  memories. 
Why,  on  a  night  like  this,  one  should  think  of  nothing 
but  a  joyous  and  beautiful  present.  I  believe  in  en- 
joying that,  and  obliterating  from  the  mind  all  things 
that  have  a  tendency  to  make  us  mournful." 

This  perfectly  matter-of-fact  lady  was  not  far  in 
the  wrong,  but  her  niece,  who  was  penetrated  with 
sadness,  spoke  thus  : 

"  Permit  me  to  remark,  dear  relative,  that  all  do 
not  find  the  present  joyous.  Natures  differ  very 
much.  You,  with  terrible  exactitude,  insist  on  a 
minute  having  sixty,  seconds.  I,  on  the  contrary 
(so  humor  my  illusion,  than  which  I  hold  naught  else 
in  this  world  so  worthy  of  cherishing),  would  find  it 
had  only  forty  ;  or,  to  stretch  a  point,  unblushingly 
give  any  pleasurable  moment  not  sixty,  but  thrice 
sixty  beats,  or  sixty  times  thrice  sixty  pulsations." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  109 

Blakeman  interrupted — "  Which  means,"  said  he, 
"  that,  in  a  little  matter,  such  as  going  back  a  hun- 
dred years  or  so,  you  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
putting  yourself  immediately  on  the  spot ;  and  at 
this  moment,  can,  at  will,  see  decapitated  queens  fly- 
ing through  barred  windows,  empresses  escaping  with 
a  large  bag  of  jewels  (do  not  let  us  forget  the  col- 
lateral) through  an  underground  passage,  a  palace 
burning,  a  city  blockaded,  all  because  why  ?  Because 
a  night  is  fair,  your  poetic  temperament  allows  it- 
self to  run  wild,  and  the  fairy  boonlight  (I  have 
already  a  cold  in  my  head)  falls  on  everything 
we  are  looking  at  at  this  moment,  even  ourselves." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Ethel,  laughing  ;  "you 
are  falling  upon  me  at  the  present  moment,  and  I 
consider  you  anything  but  boonlight  although  you 
are  unscrupulous.  How  many  stones,  please  ? 

"  Only  one,"  said  he  gaily,  "  and  that  is " 

"That,"  said  Mr.  Gratiot,  "we  all  know  is  his 
heart." 

"  Perhaps  you  all  think,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  com- 
placently, "  that  I  don't  see  anything  poetic  because 
I  don't  rave.  Well,  to  show  you  that  I  can  fall  a 
victim  as  easily  as  another  to  a  prevailing  epidemic, 
listen." 

They  all  assumed  an  attentive  air.  "  We  now  see 
before  us  the  ruined  ruins  of  what  was  once  a 
beautiful  palace  ;  a  palace  where  kings,  emperors, 
queens,  and  empresses  have  lived  ;  where  crowned 
heads  have  spurned  uncrowned  ones ;  where  balls 
were  given  at  which  princes  and  dukes  walked 
alone  ;  where  doctors  and  dentists  have  mingled  their 


no  Marked  "In  Haste." 

sentiments  ;  where  the  rich  and  poor  came  into  the 
front  door  of  the' palace  ;  and  where  the  butcher  and 
baker  left  unguarded  the  back.  I  see,"  holding  up 
her  well-gloved  number  seven,  "  a  garden  where  the 
limes  and  lindens  hide  the  weekly  wash  ;  where  the 
orange  and  citron  could  never  furnish  the  royal  table, 
but  furnished  scandal  enough  for  a  whole  community ; 
where  fine  gravelled  walks  cut  the  Louis  Quinze  heels, 
and  finer  ladies  cut  their  too  rich  neighbors.  I  walk 
through  this  garden,  leaving  behind  me  this  much 
ruined,  once  palatial  palace.  The  glaring  gutted 
windows  let  in  the  merry  moonlight,  and  ominous 
shadows  fall  upon  my  back.  These  shadows  are 
also  borne  by  the  stiff  night  wind  and  become  a 
reality — a  rigid  rheumatic  reality.  They  are  no 
longer  shadows.  I  stroll  through  this  princely 
park,  I  look  at  these  beautiful  busts.  The  morbid 
marble  gleams  through  the  speaking  shrubs  and 
oracular  orangers.  I  recognize  some  old  friends, 
very  old  friends.  Pan  and  Praxiteles,  Venus  and 
Vampire,  Psyche  and  Plutarch,  Melpomene  and 
Mercury,  Jupiter  and  Jenner,  Milo  and  Metastasio, 
Hercules  and  Homer,  Mars  and  Metternich,  Anti- 
nous  and  Artemisia,  Buffon  and  Bismarck,  Leda 
and  Lazarus,  the  Divinity  and  Dante,  Cupid  and 
Cleopatra,  Prometheus  and  Plato,  Pandora  and  Plu- 

vio,  Xerxes  and ." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  dear,  dearest  aunt,  you  are 
going  mad.  Let  us  hasten  homeward.  I  will  never 
indulge  in  a  poetical  dream  again  in  your  presence." 
Miss  Leslie  was,  with  Mr.  Blakeman  and  Mr.  Gratiot, 
so  convulsed  with  laughter  she  could  scarcely  speak, 


Marked  "In  Haste."  in 

but  she  managed  to  stop  her  aunt's  epidemical  rhap- 
sodizing. She  turned  to  the  coachman  and  ordered 
him  to  hurry  home,  and  in  a  moment  they  had 
turned  their  backs  on  the  burned  palace  of  the  Tuil- 
eries,  France's  latest  farce.  When  they  reached 
home  a  comfortable  scene  awaited  them.  The  fire  was 
burning  cheerfully,  the  lamps  were  lit,  the  salon  and 
various  other  rooms  were  illuminated  as  for  a  fete. 

How  shall  I  record  the  flight  of  that  pleasant  even- 
ing ?  Mrs.  Adrian's  punch  was  perfection  ;  even 
Ethel  was  hungry,  and  the  cook,  a  marvel  of  good 
nature,  had  robbed  an  American  hamper  of  some 
canvas-backs,  which  were  done  to  a  turn.  Miss 
Leslie  had  forgotten  her  threat  on  the  musical  ques- 
tion and  was  the  life  of  the  party.  Mr.  Blakeman 
reminded  her  of  what  she  had  promised,  but  in  vain. 

"  I  am  no  longer  in  the  humor,"  she  said,  persis- 
tently, "  and  could  not  say  a  word  about  any  voice 
to-night.  I  only  know  that,  thanks  to  you,  I  have 
spent  a  most  delightful  evening."  The  young  gentle- 
men said  "  Good-night,"  but  made  a  rendezvous  for 
the  following  Tuesday.  Miss  Leslie  promised  to  go 
to  the  reception,  and  turned  to  Mr.  Gratiot  as  he 
went  out. 

"  I  shall  expect  news  from  you  to-morrow,"  said 
she,  "  pray  heaven  it  may  be  propitious.  Que  Dieu  vous 
btnisse."  The  young  man  bowed  low  over  her  hand. 
Mrs.  Adrian  smiled  good  humoredly,  and  said  :  "  It's 
all  right,  they  do  it  in  Vienna  to  perfection  ;  but  I 
always  smile  when  I  see  Americans  so  cavalier-like. 
What  would  they  think  in  Bloomingdale  to  see  a 
gentleman  kiss  a  lady's  hand  before  everybody?" 


112  Marked  "In  Haste" 

''  Never  having  inhabited  that  charming  spot," 
said  Blakeman,  "  I  cannot  possibly  say  ;  but  if  they 
have  such  a  hand  as  this  there  (indicating  Miss  Les- 
lie's), I  should  willingly  make  a  pilgrimage  in  order 
to  kneel  at  so  sacred  a  shrine.  However,  time  flies, 
and  we  must  go.  A  truce  to  compliments,  madame, 
but  always  your  obliged  humble  servant.  Bonne 
nuit." 

The  heavy  door  closed,  and  the  ladies  were  left 
alone.  Ethel  turned  to  her  aunt  and  (as  was  her 
custom  before  retiring),  embraced  her  affectionately. 
"  Happy  dreams,  dear  friend,"  said  she  ;  "  thanks,  a 
thousand  thanks  for  your  goodness  ;  and  may  the 
morrow  bring  us  both  cheerful  news.  I  have  not 
been  so  happy  in  a  long  time.  Who  knows  but 
I  may  soon  realize  the  truth  of  the  saw,  "  Tout 
vient  a  point  a  qui  sait  attendre.  The  undisturbed 
pleasure  of  this  evening  seems  a  good  omen.  Again, 
good  night." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AMERICA. 

THE  house  of  the  Minister  was  in  Avenue  de 
I'lmperatrice,  sufficiently  far  away  to  escape  the 
crowd  of  the  city,  and  near  enough  to  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne  to  enjoy  the  fine  air  and  the  pleasure  of 
living  near  so  beautiful  a  park.  On  Tuesday  evening, 
the  honorable  gentleman,  with  his  charming  wife, 
stood  at  the  entrance  of  the  long  salon,  receiving 
their  guests  ;  his  sons  stood  near,  and  his  daughter, 
Mademoiselle  Susie,  although  very  young,  was  pres- 
ent on  this  special  occasion.  The  extraordinary 
popularity  deservedly  enjoyed  by  the  representative 
of  the  United  States  and  his  wife  made  his  soirees 
something  to  look  forward  to.  He  was,  at  that  time, 
the  oldest  resident  diplomat  in  Paris,  and  had  the 
good  fortune  to  gather  around  him  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  people  that  ever  graced  a  Parisian 
soiree  after  the  fall  of  the  Empire.  Poets  and  princes, 
ambassadors  and  prime  ministers,  came  and  went, 
and  the  decorated  personages  were  as  numerous  as 
at  any  bal  des  Tuileries.  Old  heads  and  young,  gray 
beards  and  brown,  youths  and  maidens,  came  from 
every  part  of  Paris  to  make  their  bow  to  the  great 


114  Marked  "In  Haste" 

'  statesman.  There  were  more  foreigners  than  were 
usually  seen  at  an  American  Minister's  reception. 
The  brilliancy  of  the  court  and  evening  toilettes 
worn  by  every  nation,  excepting  America,  added  a 
picturesqueness  to  the  scene  that  the  orthodox  swal- 
low-tail can  never  give.  The  Hungarians,  with  their 
rich  vesture  ;  the  Austrians,  with  their  white  and  gold 
uniform ;  the  Italians,  with  glittering  medals  and 
badges ;  Swedes  with  their  northern  costume ;  Ger- 
mans with  their  military  toggery  ;  Spaniards  with 
Toison  d'Or  decorations  and  sashes  ;  Englishmen, 
Danes,  Poles,  Russians,  each  with  their  striking 
national  characteristics,  flitted  back  and  forth  in  a 
kaleidoscopical  panorama. 

The  ladies  were  present  in  force.  There  was  the 

Countess  P s,  with  her  classic  face  and  fair  hair, 

and  on  a  marvellous  costume  was  a  sash  of  ropes 
of  pearls  wrorth  a  nation's  ransom.  There  was  the 

Princess  L ,  with  her  black  eyes  and  stately  figure. 

The  Baronne  Edmonde,  an  American,  whose  beauty 
had  long  been  a  theme  in  high  society.  There  was 

Madame  de  R ,  whose  voice  and  appearance  were 

equally  lovely.  There  were  Russians,  Italians,  Eng- 
lish, Germans,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  fairest  of 
les  belles  Ame'ricaine,  who  gave  that  colony  the  fame 
of  possessing  the  handsomest  women  in  the  world. 

The  Russian  women  were  conspicuous  for  their 
fair  hair,  lovely  figures,  and  rich  dresses.  Their 
faces,  one  and  all,  express  their  love  of  intrigue, 
and  lack  of  prudery.  Their  eyes  follow  one  about 
the  room,  and  their  vivacity  is  remarkable.  Beware, 
if  a  bewitching  Slavonian  casts  her  net  ;  even  a 


Marked  "In  Haste"  115 

devil-fish  could  not  escape.  The  Italians  have  a 
stately  suavity  of  manner  that  is  fascinating  while 
ceremonious.  The  dressing  is  original,  the  decollete'es 
are  courageous,  and  the  languishing  eyes  of  the 
Roman  beauties  fall  on  one  with  a  combined  glance 
of  voluptuousness  and  intense  sympathy.  Italians 
have  heart,  and  would  throw  a  world  away  to  gratify 
one  caprice.  Men  may  know  moral,  but  rarely  finan- 
cial ruin  at  their  hands.  The  modern  French  woman 
presents  a  vivacious  picture  of  grace,  perfectly  dis- 
guised embonpoint,  meagre  corsage,  and  an  endless 
train.  Her  complexion  shames  Sevres  painting,  her 
eyes  glow  with  a  bella  donna  brightness,  her  face  is 
continually  rippling  over  with  smiles,  her  teeth 
gleam  (even  her  teeth  are  coquettish).  Her  tiny 
feet  and  high  heels  constantly  escape  from  beneath 
her  skirts,  and  her  whole  person  is  one  lively  life- 
like picture  of  a  Parisian  belle. 

The  English  are  tall,  stately,  very  slim,  and  very 
fair.  What  is  it  the  Legend  says  ?  "And  the  Lady 
Jane  was  tall,  and  the  Lady  Jane  was  fair."  Well, 
I  am  afraid  that  they  were  all  Lady  Janes  that  even- 
ing, correct,  badly  dressed,  slim,  fair,  and  more  at 
home  in  society  than  any  other  ladies  present.  The 
English  girl  is  still  and  swan-like,  talking  with  bated 
breath,  never  gesturing,  and  having  the  peculiar 
droop  of  the  eyelid  that  society  has  evidently  pro- 
scribed for  all  her  highest  votaries.  It  is  very  sig- 
nificant, that  English  raising  and  suddenly  dropping 
of  the  eyes.  It  suggests  outward  form,  inward  ease, 
the  latest  thing  in  flirtations,  and  an  admirable  com- 
prehension of  that  delightful  French  expression  en 


ii6  Marked  "In  Haste" 

cachetic.  Albion  !  we  bow  to  thy  wonderful  daugh- 
ters ! 

Then  the  Americans  !  what  a  type  to  be  sure  ;  no 
special  type  at  all,  only  they  look  like  Americans, 
which  is  all  one  can  say.  Such  a  variety  of  style 
is  rarely  seen.  There  are  blondes,  chataignes,  bru- 
nettes, and  the  shades  of  all  these  colors,  each  one 
perfect  in  its  own  way,  each  one  different ;  yet  the 
moment  the  eye  falls  on  them,  one  says  at  once  : 
"Ah!  an  American,  rinebeauti  Americaine!"  Every 
race  has  some  distinguishing  form  of  feature,  but 
while  these  scions  of  the  New  World  lay  claim,  man 
and  woman,  to  great  physical  beauty,  they  can  claim 
neither  Roman  noses  nor  Greek,  Spanish  eyes  nor 
Titianze  like  tresses,  nor  powerfully  built  frames  like 
the  Russians,  nor  the  graceful,  undulating  bodies  of 
the  Andalusians,  or  the  voluptuous  forms  of  the 
young  Viennese  maidens,  as  their  type  of  race.  But 
they  can  claim  a  combination  of  all  these  types,  which 
made  them  what  they  are — American.  One  can 
yield  the  palm  to  a  beauty  wholly  and  completely 
aboriginal. 

The  older  ladies  have  too  little  appreciation  of 
appropriate  dress  for  state  occasions,  the  younger 
ones  are  over-dressed.  An  English  young  lady  will 
wear  a  gold  chain  on  her  throat  than  which  the 
Atlantic  cable  is  slim,  and  her  person  will  be  so  over- 
weighted with  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  jewelry,  that 
she  looks  like  a  walking  goldsmith's  sign.  A  young 
American  will  wear  dresses  whose  trains  an  empress 
would  have  been  ill  at  ease  to  carry,  the  materials  of 
the  most  elaborate  stuffs  and  brocades  that  a  grand- 


Marked  "In  Haste."  117 

mother  could  wear  with  dignity.  Diamonds  will 
sparkle  in  her  ears  like  the  headlight  to  a  locomo- 
tive, her  throat  will  be  ablaze  with  gems,  her  hair 
will  be  powdered  with  various  tinsel  dusts,  and  she 
usually  spends  half  her  pin-money  on  point-lace  so  old 
that  the  very  pattern  is  out  of  date.  One  is  surprised, 
on  noting  the  "get  up "  of  a  young  American,  to  see 
that  she  is  under  forty.  *An  ancient  dame,  who 
figured  at  the  mistletoe  bough  celebration  in  1600, 
could  not  be  more  richly  and  elaborately  dressed 
than  one  of  our  pretty  belles.  She  forgets  that 
youth  has  charm  and  is  in  itself  a  rare  adornment, 
while  the  added  gift  of  personal  comeliness  is  set  off, 
not  by  exhausting  the  looms  of  their  stiffest  and 
highest-priced  goods,  but  by  a  simple  gown  of  be- 
coming color  and  fabric,  and,  above  all,  nothing  so 
conspicuous  that  nature  in  itself  does  not  first  at- 
tract. 

It  is  this  absurd  extravagance  in  dress  that  shows 
off  our  American  beauties  to  disadvantage.  Where 
the  dressmaker  is  uppermost,  the  greatest  artisan  in 
nature's  handicraft  is  overshadowed  by  artificial 
pomp. 

The  Minister  wore  his  happiest  look  ;  madame 
smiled  and  chatted  with  her  guests.  All  languages 
were  spoken,  but  in  a  little  while,  English  predom- 
inated. At  half-past  ten  a  famous  society  belle  made 
her  entrance  with  glittering  toilette  and  a  train  of 
satellites.  Allani  stood  talking  with  Gratiot  when 
Lord  Beaufort  and  Athol  Brandon  came  in.  After 
presenting  them  to  the  hostess  and  her  liege,  they 
recognized  several  old  acquaintances,  and  in  a  short 


ii8  Marked  "In  Haste" 

time  were  as  much  at  home  as  in  a  London  drawing- 
room.  The  Lady  Eleanor  Gray  was  the  centre  of 
an  admiring  crowd.  She  was  an  English  beauty  of 
much  renown,  her  wealth  was  fabulous,  and  the 
world  had  already  given  her  to  successive  dukes, 
princes,  and  counts.  The  latest  matrimonial  scheme 
had  been  to  bring  about  a  match  between  herself 
and  Beaufort.  His  pleasure  on  seeing  her  was  not 
wholly  unadulterated,  for  he  was  thinking  of  another 
and  wondering  whether  or  no  she  would  come.  He 
was  obliged  to  say  polite  nothings  to  the  fair  Eleanor, 
and  apparently  was  bound  to  her  for  the  evening. 
He  was  hemmed  in  by  the  worst  of  all  crowds,  a 
going-and-coming  mass  at  a  cosmopolitan  reception. 
People  jostled  him,  he  was  separated  from  Allani, 
and  Brandon  was  already  flirting  wTith  some  pink  and 
white  perfection  ;  so  his  chances  of  getting  away 
grew  each  moment  more  desperate.  While  he  was 
talking,  the  door  opened.  There  was  a  hush  and  a 
murmur  of  admiration,  and  Mile.  Leslie,  followed  by 
her  aunt,  came  toward  the  Minister.  Beaufort  felt 
such  a  shock  on  seeing  her  that  his  heart  stood  quite 
still.  Yes,  it  was  she  !  His  beautiful,  mysterious 
ideal,  his  pale  companion  on  their  nocturnal  visits 
to  the  Latin  Quarter.  Lady  Eleanor  looked  up,  first 
indifferently,  then  with  curiosity. 

"  Who  can  that  pretty  woman  be  ?"  said  she,  frank- 
ly. "  I  have  never  before  seen  her  at  any  of  the  Min- 
ister's soirees,  and  in  fact,  I  don't  remember  to  have 
ever  seen  her  face  at  any  time  in  Paris.  She  must 
be  a  new  comer." 

Lord  Beaufort  looked  indifferent  and  said  nothing. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  119 

Lady  Eleanor  continued,  "  She  seems  to  be  known, 
and  see,  everybody  is  rushing  up  to  be  introduced. 
I  suppose  (half-jealously)  you  will  soon  follow  the 
general  lead."  Beaufort  could  with  difficulty  con- 
ceal his  feelings.  He  laughed,  however,  as  men  can 
so  easily  do,  no  matter  how  great  their  preoccupation, 
and  said  to  her  ladyship  : 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  follow  the  general  rule  sooner 
or  later,  but  at  present,  I  stand  a  poor  chance  of  get- 
ting anywhere  -near  the  Lady — — " 

"  Dear  Lady  Eleanor,"  broke  in  a  very  English 
voice,  "pray  let  me  claim  you  for  supper  accord- 
ing to  promise.  No  supper  ?  Well  an  ice,  some- 
thing. Really  there's  a  frightful  crush.  I  have  been 
trying  to  get  back  to  you  for  half  an  hour.  Lord 
Beaufort  ?  Aw,  yes,  charmed,  I'm  sure,"  acknowledg- 
ing her  ladyship's  introduction  to  the  Earl.  "  You 
are  in  Paris  for  some  time  ?"  turning  toward  him. 
"  Fine  city,  yes  indeed,  one  always  gets  back  here 
with  pleasure." 

"Colonel  Hilson,"  said  Lady  Eleanor,  "I  believe  I 
will  take  a  promenade  and — an  ice.  Can  you  tell  me 
who  that  young  lady  is  ?"  indicating  Miss  Leslie. 
The  colonel  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  her 
ladyship  looked.  He  started,  and  said,  "  Surely  I 
know  the  face  ;  yes,  I  cannot  be  mistaken.  It  is  Miss 
Leslie,  the  daughter  of  an  old  friend  of  mine,  and 
one  of  the  greatest  heiresses  America  has  sent  over 
in  some  time.  She  is  very  charming,  and  I  hope  your 
ladyship  may  meet  her.  If  an  opportunity  occur,  I 
should  like  to  make  you  'acquainted." 

Lady   Eleanor  bowed  stiffly.   "  Always  pleased  to 


120  Marked  "In  Haste" 

know  your  friends,  Colonel,"  she  said,  with  ill-masked 
cordiality.  "  Is — is  she  quite  American  ?" 

"  All,  that  is  most  American,"  said  he  with  a  little 
shrug  of  the  shoulder  ;  "but  she  is  a  Southerner  and 
descends  really  from  old  English  stock.  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  her  some  other  time.  It  is  so  hot,  you 
must  be  fainting  for  the  want  of  some  refreshments  ; 
allons." 

She  took  his  arm  and  nodded  to  Beaufort.  He 
bowed  with  scrupulous  politeness,  and  for  the  second 
time  in  his  life,  believed  in  fate.  He  could  have 
hugged  the  colonel  for  coming  to  his  relief.  And 
he  even  held  the  Lady  Eleanor  in  higher  apprecia- 
tion that  she  had  unconsciously  left  him  to  himself. 
The  rooms  were  very  crowded  and  stifling.  He 
made  his  way  toward  the  Minister,  and  saw  Miss 
Leslie  standing  almost  beside  him.  He  felt  the 
long-hoped-for  moment  approaching.  She  raised 
her  lovely  eyes  and  fixed  them  on  his  face.  He  went 
nearer  and  straight  toward  her  as  if  drawn  by  an  un- 
seen magnet.  The  Minister  looked  pleased.  He 
held  out  a  hand  and  said  : 

"  I  see  you  have  found  friends,  as  I  noticed  you 
were  talking  with  your  charming  compatriote  ;  but 
now,"  turning  to  Miss  Leslie,  "with  her  permission 
I  shall  present  you  to  a  compatriote  of  mine."  Then 
he  went  through  the  required  formula.  The  lady 
bowed  coldly,  yet  looked  at  the  Earl  with  a  peculiar- 
ly scrutinizing  ga/e.  He  felt  as  if  she  must  recog- 
nize him,  but  no,  that  was  impossible  ;  yet  his  heart 
beat  with  violence,  and  it  seemed  that  his  brain  was 
turning.  Great  heaven,  was  he  already  so  interested 


Marked  "In  Haste."  12 1 

in  this  woman  ?  She  was  looking  so  calmly  on,  and 
he — he  was  so  madly  in  love  with  her  that  with  diffi- 
culty could  he  command  his  voice.  He  summoned 
all  his  self-will  and  appeared,  at  least  outwardly,  un- 
perturbed. Miss  Leslie  said  to  him  : 

"  I   have  been   speaking   about   London  to    Mr. 
Brandon." 

"Mr.  Brandon  ?"  he  interrupted,  with  astonish- 
ment ;  "  you  know  my  cousin  then  ?" 

"  He  has  just  been  presented  to  me,"  she  answer- 
ed, "  and  he  said  he  thought  that  he  had  seen  me  in 
England.  So  one  thing  brought  on  another,  and  we 
spoke  of  London.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  used  not  to 
like  it  at  all,  but  now  that  I  have  friends  there,  I  find 
it  simply  delightful." 

"Now  that  you  have  friends  there,"  he  repeated, 
echoing  her  words  ;  "  surely  (with  gallantry)  you 
must  always  have  had  friends  everywhere  that  you 
have  ever  been  ;  and  in  London  we  flatter  ourselves 
that  we  know  how  to  appreciate  those  who— rwho 
like  London." 

She  looked  half  amused  and  made  answer : 

"Oh,  you  must  not  think  that  because  I  said  I 
find  it  delightful,  I  mean  that  for  always.  London  is 
a  great  world,  and,  of  course,  with  a  world  must  suffer 
many  incongruities.  Happily,  that  which  is  most 
distasteful  is  least  seen,  and  above  all,  comes  least  to 
a  lady's  attention.  I  think  every  part  of  it  perfect 
after  we  leave  Piccadilly  Circus.  One  goes  straight 
on  from  there,  and  by  the  time  one  reaches  Hyde  Park 
only  the  gayest  part  of  life  is  on  the  surface.  London 
is  a  city  for  the  extreme  rich  and  poorest  poor." 
6 


122  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  Are  you  moralizing  ?  "  said  he,  faintly.  "  I  hope 
not,  although  what  you  say  must  strike  a  stranger 
as  very  incongruous.  Yet  people  are  not  worse  off 
in  London  than  in  other  large  cities,  I  assure  you." 

She  started  and  looked  at  him,  and  he  noticed  her 
momentary  attention  drawn  toward  himself.  With- 
out waiting  for  him  to  speak,  she  said  half-hurriedly 
and  under  her  breath  : 

"  You  must  excuse  me.  It  is  very  strange,  but  I 
fancied  when  I  heard  your  voice,  that  we  had  met 
before.  There  is  so  familiar  a  cadence  in  it  that  I 
am  sure  I  cannot  be  mistaken.  Frankly,  have  we 
met  before  ? " 

He  was  staggered,  and  at  a  loss  to  reply.  He  par- 
ried her  question,  however,  with  consummate  skill. 

"  I — I  do  not  understand  you,"  he  said.  "Have  we 
met  before  ?  where,  how,  and  when  ?  I  sincerely  hope 
so,  for  then  you  might  look  upon  me  as  an  old  friend 
and  not  a  new  acquaintance.  But  do  not  think  me 
ungallant.  I  really " 

She  looked  up  reassured  and  said  : 

"  It  was  only  a  momentary  illusion.  It  is  quite 
impossible  that  we  have  met  before  this  evening,  yet 
I  have  a  remarkable  memory  for  voices  and  half  fan- 
cied on  hearing  yours  that  it  was  familiar  to  me.  I 
do  not  think  you  ungallant,  my  Lord,  but  assure  you 
that  for  the  moment  it  gave  me  quite  a  turn. 
Strangest  of  all  is  that  I  cannot  place  it,  nor  say 
whose  voice  it  so  resembles." 

He  felt  relieved — how  much  she  might  never 
know,  but  he  only  bowed,  as  any  well-bred  man 
should,  and  allowed  the  question  to  drop.  Just  then 


Marked  "fn  Haste"  123 

Mrs.  Adrian  joined  them,  and  Mademoiselle  pre- 
sented him  to  her  aunt.  She  had  Brandon's  arm, 
and  he  was  half  amused  to  see  his  cousin  already 
sworn  into  the  ranks  of  an  evening  escort. 

Mrs.  Adrian  was  all  animation,  and  when  the  Earl 
expressed  the  honor  felt  at  meeting  Madame,  she 
said  : 

"I  am  also  pleased,  my  Lord,  and  perhaps  you 
do  not  know  that  I  find  in  your  kinsman  an  old  ac- 
quaintance." 

"Yes,"  said  Brandon,  "we  met  in  Luchon  last 
year,  and  you  must  remember  that  I  spoke  to  you 
how  agreeable  a  day  I  had  passed  once  en  route  from 
Biarritz,  and  of  the  lady  whom  I  met  so  frequently 
with  the  Danuals.  This  is  she." 

"You  must  tell  me  all  about  it,"  interrupted  the 
Earl,  heartily.  "  Of  course  I  remember,  now  that 
you  mention  it,  but"  regretfully,  "you  never  men- 
tioned that  you  knew  Miss  Leslie." 

Mademoiselle  laughed  and  explained  : 

"  Oh,  he  never  knew  me.  Aunt  was  alone,  or  off 
on  one  of  her  rheumatic  expeditions  with  friends, 
and  I  was  only  a  myth  to  Mr.  Brandon,  except  as 
he  may  have  heard  of  me  through  her." 

Mrs.  Adrian  interposed  :  "  My  dear,  I  don't  think 
your  name  was  ever  mentioned  ;  however,  it  might 
have  been.  You  are  spoiled,  my  child,"  she  added, 
good  humoredly,  "  and  think  that  I  spend  my  time 
talking  of,  when  not  with,  you.  But  you  are  mis- 
taken. My  only  preoccupation  at  Luchon  was  my 
health " 

"And  going  over  to  the   Portillion,"  interrupted 


124  Marked  "fn  Haste" 

Brandon,  jocosely.  "  I  remember  when  our  carriage 
broke  down  and  stopped  all  the  others  just  as  they 
were  going  up  the  first  of  those  continuous  hills  en 
route  to  the  gambling  place.  Why,  we  had  to  wait 
nearly  two  hours,  and  had  a  real  pic-nic  on  the  top  of 
a  mountain  looking  down  upon  gorgeous  scenery." 

"  I  hope,"  interrupted  Beaufort,  "that  you  did  not 
intend  your  adjective  as  a  deliberate  pun  about 
gorges  and  ravines  ? "  Ethel  laughed. 

"I  am  afraid  any  court  in  England  would  find  Mr. 
Brandon  guilty,"  said  she,  "but  we  will  forgive  you 
if  the  offence  be  not  repeated,"  turning  toward  him. 
''  Oh  !  " — with  a  little  petulant  movement,  "  some 
one  is  coming  this  way  who  bores  me  terribly.  How 
to  escape  ? " 

"  Quick  !  "  said  the  Earl,  "  you  say  you  are  dying 
for  an  ice.  Naturally  many  have  died  in  a  less 
worthy  cause,  but  take  my  arm  and  we  will  soon  be 
hopelessly  lost  to  the  sight  of  the  enemy." 

Admiring  eyes  followed  the  lady  as  she  went  past. 
Never  had  she  been  so  beautiful  before,  and  if  he 
had  lost  his  heart  to  a  figure  in  carmellite  grey,  he 
certainly  would  lose  it  again  this  night.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  toilette  turquoise,  blue  faille  and  crepe 
that  trailed  after  her  like  a  summer-cloud.  Her 
heavy  hair  was  dressed  a  I1  Imperatrice,  and  was 
caught  with  a  pearl  comb  at  the  back.  Her  dress 
was  covered  with  blossoms  of  the  sweet  Cape  jes- 
samin, and  her  hand  bouquet  was  composed  of  the 
same  rare  flowers.  She  wore  no  jewels,  and  her  pale 
complexion  had  just  color  enough  to  save  it  from 
its  usually  marble-like  appearance.  While  dressed 


Marked  "/«  Haste."  125 

with  the  greatest  elegance  and  simplicity,  she  looked 
extremely  young,  and  not  entrop  grande  toilette.  She 
was  decollete,  of  course,  and  the  fine  folds  of  the  crepe 
lying  against  her  skin  added  a  rose  tint  that  always 
follows  that  shade  of  blue. 

They  reached  the  supper-room,  and  Beaufort 
thought  of  the  lines, 

"  She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 
Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies." 

Oh  !  how  fair  she  was,  how  lovely,  and  how  he  would 
love  her.  Then  to  his  soul  came  another  vision — a 
troubled  woman  courting  night's  favour,  and  a  mys- 
tery which  seemed,  alas!  most  profound  and  repellant. 
He  tried  in  vain  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  that  the  pass- 
ing hour  gave.  Surely  they  were  destined  to  know 
more  of  each  other,  and  how  could  he  reconcile  him- 
self to  this  double  life  ?  He  would  go  no  more  to 
the  Quartier  Latin,  and  then  at  least  he  could  ignore 
her  daily  movements.  Fate,  who  had  thrown  them 
in  each  other's  way,  would  surely  unravel  the  mys- 
tery. Of  one  thing  he  felt  assured,  her  entire  and 
complete  innocence. 

Yesterday  he  had  received  a  note.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  Francois  Felden  and  ran  as  follows : 
"Monsieur,  you  are  at  liberty  until  Thursday.  Call 
that  day  at  nine  P.M.  sharp.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say 
that  I  do  not  need  you  this  evening." 

This  was  last  night,  and  already  he  was  burning 
with  jealous  desire  to  know  how  she  had  passed  her 
time.  If  she  had  gone  to  her  usual  rendezvous,  if 
she  had  been  alone,  or  perhaps— oh,  fatal  thought ! 


126  Marked  "In  Haste" 

she  had  been  accompanied  by  another.  He  was 
racked  by  conflicting  emotions,  and  the  day  had  been 
one  long  agony.  He  felt  that  he  would  meet  her  that 
evening,  but  what  the  result  would  be  he  could  not 
divine.  Would  he  be  asked  to  call,  could  he  find  any 
pretext  for  presenting  his  hommage  ;  would  he — could 
he  know  her  better,  and  how  was  it  all  to  end  ? 

They  reached  the  buffet.  He  found  a  chair  and 
struggled  to  get  her  something.  She  looked  up 
amusedly.  "  I  don't  really  care  for  anything.  Surely 
you  have  forgotten  why  we  came  to  the  supper-room. 
I  might  take  a  cup  of  tea,  but  beyond  that,  impossi- 
ble to  touch  a  thing  !  I — to  tell  the  truth — I  don't 
feel  quite  well,  and  the  heat  is  stifling." 

He  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment :  "You  are  not 
well  ?  Pray  what  is  it  ?  you  are  not  faint,  I  hope  ? " 
She  looked  tired  but  not  ill.  He  could  illy  disguise 
his  solicitude,  and  his  voice  had  the  ring  of  genuine 
feeling.  She  seemed  scarcely  surprised,  but  an- 
swered, 

"  No,  not  faint,  but  a  little  '  under  the  weather. ' 
To  tell  the  truth,"  half  hesitatingly,  "  I  should  not 
have  ventured  out  this  evening.  I  was  ill  all  day 
yesterday  and  confined  to  my  room." 

His  heart  gave  a  great  bound.  So  she  had  been  ill, 
and  no  one  had  taken  his  place.  To  think  that  he 
could  ever  feel  joy  at  the  thought  that  she  had  been 
suffering !  She  had  not  gone  to  the  Rue  St.  Pere, 
and  was  well  enough  to  come  out  to-night.  It  could 
not  be  serious. 

"  I  fear,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are  really  indisposed. 
Do  not  let  us  stay  here.  It  is  hot.  I  will  find  a  quiet 


Marked  "In  Haste"  127 

corner  and  bring  you  some  tea;  but  would  not  a  glass 
of  wine  do  better  ?  " 

She  smiled  a  "  No,"  and  said,  "  I  am  afraid  I  have 
a  weakness  for  tea  and  you  may  get  me  some,  but  I 
will  wait  here  and  then  we  will  go.  The  soiree  has 
been  delightful,  as  it  always  is  at  Mr.  Washburne's, 
and  I  never  like  to  tear  myself  away.  What  charm- 
ing and  distinguished  people  one  always  meets  at  his 
house  !  You  know  we  are  very  proud  of  our  Minis- 
ter, and  although  before  the  war  he  was  popular, 
since  he  became  a  great  lion.  He  is  especially  over- 
powered with  attention  from  foreigners — a  com- 
pliment to  himself  and  an  honor  to  the  nation  he 
represents.  My  tea  ? —  Oh,  yes,  thanks.  How  lucky 
to  get  it  so  soon;  and  you,  my  Lord  ?  " 

"  I  will  keep  you  company,"  said  he,  at  the  same 
time  helping  her  to  sugar.  "  I  caught  a  servant  a 
moment  ago,  and  feel  that  we  are  fortunate  to  have 
gotten  some  under  an  hour.  In  fact,"  continued  he, 
gaily,  "  it  is  too  soon,  I  thought.  I  could  keep  you 
here  all  to  myself  at  least  ten  minutes." 

She  smiled  brightly.  "  Ten  minutes  !  ten  whole 
minutes !  Why,  that  is  a  long  time  ;  worlds  have 
been  lost  in  less." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  he  responded.  "  I  know  of  one 
that  I  would  lose  in  a  good  cause  in  much  less  time 
than  that ;  but,"  he  added,  with  half-serious  badinage, 
"  it  was  almost  impossible  to  get  to  you  ;  you  were 
surrounded  by  a  throng  of  admirers,  men  and  women, 
and  these  ambassadors  with  their  decorations,  con- 
found them !  It  is  impossible  for  a  young  man  to 
get  any  show  at  all  now-a-days  at  a  soiree" 


128  Marked  "In  Haste." 

"For  shame!"  she  interrupted;  "you  complain 
thus  ?  Why,  I  saw  you  for  fully  half  an  hour  chained 
— fairly  enchained — to  the  side  of  that  lovely  English 
lady.  You  did  not  seem  at  all  anxious  to  leave,  and 
I  trust  you  would  not  be  so  ungallant  as  to  say  now 
that  you  longed  for  liberty." 

She  had  seen  him  ;  that  was  something.  He  was 
dying  to  tell  her  how  the  moments  really  dragged 
until  he  had  met  her ;  but,  on  second  thought,  he 
spoke  as  a  man  of  the  world  : 

" Ah,  the  Lady  Eleanor!  yes,  she  is  beautiful,  and 
as  charming  as  handsome.  No,  I  must  not  say  that 
I  longed  to  leave  her,  but  I  suppose  I  may  say  that, 
some  way,  I  longed  to  know  you.  Will  you  accept 
so  paradoxical  a  view  of  the  case  ? " 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should,"  she  said,  half  coldly ; 
"  a  charming  woman  is  a  charming  woman  ;  why  one 
should  leave  one  to — 

"  To  go  to  another,"  he  interrupted,  a  little  mali- 
ciously. 

"  I  did  not  say  that"  she  remarked,  quietly  ;  "but 
I  mean,  why  one  should  leave  a  person  who  is  all  life 
and  vivacity  to  go  to  another  who  is  not,  naturally 
surprises  one." 

"  But  I  did  not  leave  her,"  he  said,  determinedly, 
"  she  left  me." 

"Well,  I  suppose  she  is  not  the  first,"  retorted 
Miss  Leslie.  "  I  do  not  think  of  a  better  thing  to 
do  than  to  follow  her  example.  Suppose  I  leave 
you  this  moment  and  beckon  to  that  old  gentleman 
in  the  corner  to  come  to  me  ?  He  would  offer  me 
an  arm  on  the  score  of  old  friendship.  He  does  not 


Marked  "In  Haste"  129 

look  it,"  she  continued,  naively,  "  but  he  is  a  king's 
uncle." 

"  What  king  ?  "  said  Beaufort,  haughtily. 

"  The  King  of  Spain,"  said  she,  calmly.  "  No 
apology ;  England  may  never  have  heard  of  the 
country  before,  but  America  has.  Besides,  we  owe 
something  to  Spain,  and  little  to  England." 

He  put  out  his  hands  humbly.  "  Don't,  pray 
don't  let  him  supplant  me.  To  please  you,  I  think 
I  would  even  be  uncle  to  the  Tzar  and " 

"Father  the  thought,"  she  interrupted,  malicious- 
ly ;  "  but  it  is  no  use.  You  have  fallen  in  my  bad 
graces,  and  besides,  you  are  not  speaking  truth- 
fully." 

He  looked  up.     "Well  ?"  questioningly. 

"  Why  did  you  say  that  the  lady  left  you  ? " 

"She  did  leave  me,"  he  persisted. 

"  But  you  wanted  her  to  go  ! " 

"  That  does  not  alter  the  fact,"  he  added,  calmly. 

"  But  I  mean  that,  that " 

"  You  mean,"  he  said,  deliberately,  "  that  I  sat  en- 
chained, yet  my  eyes  wandered  ever  in  your  direc- 
tion ;  that  I  spent  half  an  hour  at  her  side,  longing 
to  be  at  yours  ;  that  the  moment  you  came  in  the 
room,  I  considered  my  evening  would  be  incomplete 
if  I  could  not  have  the  honor  of  knowing  you  ;  and 
now  that  I  know  you,  my — 

She  laughed  coquettishly,  and  interrupted  : 

"  That  will  do.  No  more  confessions,  please ; 
besides,  it's  time  to  go.  I  am  not  sorry,  however, 
that  you  told  me  the  truth  ;  it  has  redeemed  you  in 
my  eyes." 

6* 


130  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  How  do  you  know  I  told  the  truth  ? "  he  asked, 
persistently. 

She  blushed,  but  answered  honestly  : 

"  I— I  felt  it." 

He  spoke  eagerly. 

"  Then  you  knew  that  I  was  watching  you  ?  " 

"  Did  I  say  so  ?  "  she  responds,  archly. 

"No,"  he  is  obliged  to  confess,  "but  you  must 
have  understood  I  wanted  to  know  you.  A  woman 
always  knows  those  things,  and  besides,  now  that 
we  are  both  confessing " 

"  Both  confessing,  my  Lord  ?  "  coldly,  "  I  am  do- 
ing nothing  of  the  sort  !  What  can  /  confess  ?  That 
you  noticed  me  looking  in  your  direction  ?" 

"  That  I  saw  you  look  in  my  direction." 

"  That  is  another  thing,"  she  said. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  replied,  stiffly.  "  It  is  a  vastly 
different  thing." 

She  arose  deliberately,  and  took  up  her  bouquet. 
Her  hand  had  been  carelessly  lying  on  the  flowers, 
and  as  she  took  them,  a  lovely  blossom  snapped  from 
the  stem  and  fell  at  the  Earl's  feet.  He  picked  it  up 
instantly. 

"  May  I  keep  it,"  said  he  softly. 

She  looked  at  him  curiously,  and  answered  : 

"  If  you  like,"  then  idly,  "  I  do  not  care  for  it." 

He  started. 

"  It  is  a  poor  gift  if  it  have  no  value  in  your  eyes." 

"  What  possible  value,"  said  she,  haughtily,  "  could 
one  broken  rose  have  in  my  eyes  more  than  another  ? 
These  will  all  be  withered  in  a  little  while.  I  shall 
throw  them  away,  and  to-morrow " 


Marked  "In  Haste"  131 

"To-morrow,"  he  added,  calmly,  "you  will  have 
another." 

"Yes,  and  the  next  to-morrow  another,"  she  said. 

"  And  throw  them  away  just  the  same  ?  " 

"  Indubitably,"  she  responded. 

"But,"  he  added,  half  unconsciously,  "you  offer 
me  %.pis-aller.  I " 

"  I  offer  you  nothing  !     You  took  it,"  she  said. 

"  I  did  that  to  be  polite,"  he  said,  matching  her 
sangfroid.  "You  seemed  to  expect  it.  A  thing," 
with  biting  sarcasm,  "  that  has  no  value  in  your  eyes, 
could  never  possibly  have  any  in  mine,  so  I  will 
throw  it  away,  or  better  still,  drop  it  where  it  first 
fell." 

The  flower  did  not  fall  at  once,  but,  strange  to 
say,  rolled  on  her  dress.  It  seemed  about  to  stay 
there,  then  timidly  dropped  to  the  floor.  She  looked 
half  vexed,  half  amused,  but  said  nothing.  They 
walked  away  in  silence,  and  met  Mrs.  Adrian  at  the 
salon  door. 

"  My  dear,"  said  she,  with  her  lively  voice,  "  I  was 
just  looking  for  you.  I  want  you  to  meet  Lady 
Eleanor  Gray,  who  is  perfectly  charming  and  who 
wants  to  know  you.  I  have  found  a  little  corner  and 
she  is  waiting.  We  will  go  at  once." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"MASKS  AND  FACES." 

LORD  BEAUFORT  offered  his  arm.  Mrs.  Adrian  took 
it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  they  walked  toward  the 
little  corner.  Miss  Leslie  followed,  but  half  stopped 
on  the  way.  Mr.  Gratiot  came  up  and  said  : 

"  I  wish  to  present  an  old  friend,  Mr.  Allani." 

She  turned  to  recognize  the  introduction,  but 
started  hastily  and  \vith  some  confusion.  Recover- 
ing herself  as  quickly,  however,  she  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  We  have  met  before,"  she  said,  frankly.  "  I  also 
am  pleased  to  see  an  old  friend." 

So  far  Mr.  Allani  had  but  barely  spoken. 

"  We  meet  again,"  she  said,  simply.  "  Really,  the 
world  is  very  small." 

"It  is,  indeed,"  he  made  answer.  "Who  would 
have  thought  that  I  should  see  any  one  to-night  that 
I  had  ever  met  before  ?  " 

"  Before  in  America,"  she  interrupted,  "  and  yet, 
what  is  more  likely  ? " 

"What  is  more  unlikely?"  he  said.  "I  rarely  go 
where  there  are  Americans — now,"  hesitatingly. 

"That  is  unkind,"  she  answered,  softly.     "Have 


Marked  "In  Haste"  133 

you  not  been,  were — were  you  not  always  well 
treated  in  my  country  ?  " 

He  looked  up. 

"  Yes."  I  can  never  complain  of  the  treatment  I 
received  while  there  from  one — one  and  all." 

She  looked  uneasy. 

"  Have  you  been  back  long  ? "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  only  about  a  fortnight." 

"  A  fortnight  !  "  raising  her  eyes.  "  Why,  where 
have  you  been  ever — ever  since  we  last  met  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  round  the  world,"  quietly,  <;  and 
have  grown  older,  wiser,  but " 

"  But,"  she  interrupted,  "you  have  not  changed." 

"In  personal  appearance  perhaps  no,  but  in  other 
things,  I  ought  to  hope,  yes." 

She  reflected  before  answering,  then  said  with  half 
concealed  bitterness  : 

"  I  referred  only  to  your  personal  appearance.  I 
took  it  for  granted  that  you  had  changed  otherwise. 
Any  man's  heart  is  like  a  mirror,  capable  of  reflect- 
ing any  and  every  woman's  image  at  the  same 
time." 

He  laughed.  "  Pray,  Mademoiselle,  do  not  think 
that  women  have  a  monopoly  in  that  very  human 
characteristic  change  !  Why,  change  is  the  current 
coin  of  the  hour.  How  would  we  pay  our  daily 
pleasures  without  it  ? " 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  conclusively.  "Pay  daily, 
then  one  does  not  pay  so  dearly.  You  may  traduce 
your  own  sex  if  you  will,  but  not  mine.  'Man's  love 
is  of  man's  life  a  thing  apart,  'tis  woman's  whole 
existence,'  and  Byron  knew." 


134  Marked  <(In  Haste" 

"  No,  but  Julia  did.  I  think,  on  the  whole,  the 
poet  felt  sorry  for  his  own  muse,"  he  answered  ;  "but 
I  am  shocked  !  Is  it  possible  that  you  read " 

"  Ethel,  dear,"  said  her  aunt,  "  let  me  present  you 
to  the  Lady  Eleanor  Gray." 

Miss  Leslie  came  forward.  Lady  Eleanor  could 
not  disguise  her  look  of  expectant  curiosity.  Yes, 
the  lady  was  indeed  charming.  Her  face  was  fault- 
less, her  toilette  the  height  of  good  taste,  but  her  man- 
ners were  strangely  posees  for  so  young  a  woman,  and 
an  American  too.  Americans  are  usually  so  gushing. 
While  polite  commonplace  was  going  on,  the  Eng- 
lish beauty  studied  her  unconscious  rival,  and  finally 
spoke,  saying  naturally  exactly  what  she  did  not 
mean  : 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  know  you,  and  am  so  fond  of 
Americans."  Miss  Leslie  responded  : 

"  Thanks,  I  am  charmed  to  know  you,  and — and 
I  also  am  fond  of  the  English." 

When  she  came  to  a  standstill,  Lady  Eleanor 
looked  at  her  quite  curiously,  then  ventured : 

"Your  face  is  so  familiar.  Have  I  not  met  you 
somewhere  in  London  ?"  The  lady  answered  this 
time,  with  a  smile  : 

"  I  think  not,  your  face  is  not  familiar,  but  had  I 
once  seen  it  I  never  could  forget  neither  where  nor 
how  I  had  met  it." 

Lady  Eleanor  was  pleased.  No  flattery  is  so  sweet 
to  woman  as  that  which  comes  from  woman.  Lord 
Beaufort  broke  in  upon  the  conversation  : 

"  We  are  all  of  Miss  Leslie's  opinion,"  he  said,  quite 
gallantly  ;  "  how  could  one  be  otherwise  ? "  Then  he 


Marked  "In  Haste."  135 

thought  to  himself,  "  Those  two  are  already  sworn 
enemies."  Just  then  Allani  came  up  to  be  presented. 

Lady  Eleanor  was  never  so  delighted  as  when  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd.  Her  eyes  flashed  brighter,  her 
color  came  and  went,  and  her  whole  manner  ex- 
pressed the  liveliest  concern.  She  began  saying  how 
charming  the  evening  was,  and  asked  to  have  every- 
body pointed  out  to  her,  especially  the  Americans. 

"  I  hear,"  said  she,  "  that  there  is  a  large  number 
in  Paris." 

Mr.  Gratiot  corrected  her :  "  You  mean,  my  lady, 
a  large  colony.  That  is  the  word  used." 

She  laughed  pleasantly  and  said  :  "Well,  a  large 
colony,  if  you  prefer  that  word.  But  I  must  know 
who  is  who."  Lord  Beaufort  turned  to  Miss  Leslie  : 

"  Have  you  curiosity  ? "  he  said,  "  or  do  you  know 
everybody  ?  " 

"I  have  some  curiosity,"  she  answered,  "and  I 
know  some  of  the  people  present." 

"  How  guarded  your  answer,"  said  he,  half  mock- 
ingly ;  "  but  let  us  listen,  Mr.  Gratiot  is  going  to  tell 
us " 

"Mr.  Gratiot  is  going  to  tell  you  what?"  said  a 
new  voice,  and  Mr.  Blakeman  came  up  to  salute  the 
Lady  Eleanor,  an  old  acquaintance.  He  had  not  no- 
ticed who  was  speaking,  but  thought  it  Allani,  whom 
he  already  knew  ;  but  he  hastily  apologized  when 
he  found  it  was  Lord  Beaufort  who  was  talking,  a 
gentleman  whom  he  did  not  know.  Miss  Leslie  in- 
troduced them.  His  lordship  bowed  stiffly,  and 
immediately  fixed  his  eye  on  Blakeman.  Who  was 
he  ?  and  how  did  he  happen  to  be  on  such  good 


136  Marked  "In  Haste" 

terms  with  Miss  Leslie  ?  Was  he  in  love  with  her  ? 
Naturally.  He  then  decided  to  hate  him  at  once. 

Mr.  Gratiot  begged  oft"  when  Mr.  Blakeman  ap- 
peared. He  said  : 

"  The  Lady  Eleanor  wishes  to  know  the  names  of 
some  of  the  Americans  present,  and  you  must  tell 
her.  I  can,  but " 

"  But,"  said  Blakeman,  "  but  you  want  to  give  me 
a  reasonable  excuse  for  joining  in  the  conversation. 
Well,  I  don't  mind.  Shall  I  tell  you  outright,  alpha- 
betically, or  will  you  point  out  those  whom  you  wish 
to  know  ?" 

The  lady  looked  up  brightly. 

"  I  wish  to  know,"  said  she,  "who  everybody  is  in 
that  corner,"  indicating,  with  a  slight  movement  of 
her  pretty  head,  a  further  corner  in  the  long  salon. 
"It  looks  so  American,  and  they  all  seem  to  know 
each  other  so  well." 

He  followed  the  direction  of  her  ladyship's  head, 
and  ejaculated  : 

" Ma  foi,  you  have  just  divined  the  truth,  and  I 
think  I  can  name  them  all  to  your  ladyship.  Those 
ladies  seated " 

She  held  up  her  fan,  saying  : 

"  Are  all  charming ;  nay,  more,  they  look  so 
awfully  jolly." 

Blakeman  smiled  warningly. 

"  No  adverse  criticism,  or  I  will  yield  this  task  to 
another." 

She  started  back  with  mock  dignity,  disclaiming 
by  the  movement  any  intention  to  criticise.  He  con- 
tinued : 


Marked  "In  Haste."  137 

"  That  lady  to  the  extreme  left  is  Mrs.  W.  E.  Pond. 
She  is  amiable,  hospitable,  and  adores  music.  That 
gentleman  near  her,  with  the  long  beard,  is  her  hus- 
band. He  is  a  fine  musician,  and  directs  the  choir 
in  the  American  chapel." 

"  And  the  fair  young  man,"  said  her  ladyship,  "  is 
their  son,  who  sings  really  divinely." 

Blakeman  acquiesced.  "You  are  right,"  he  said. 
"  Thanks  for  the  prompting.  The  lady  next  her  is 
Mrs.  Heathe.  She  is  a  great  leader  in  society,  gives 
superb  balls,  and  is  spoken  of  among  the  French  as 
'  cette  charmante  Amtricaine'  Her  cotillons  cost 
thousands  of  francs,  and  her  house  is  most  beautiful 
and  hospitable.  The  lady  to  her  right,  in  gray  satin, 
de'collete'e,  is  Mrs.  John  Harland.  She  receives  every 
Thursday  evening,  and  has  many  foreigners  at  her 
soirees.  Ambassadors,  lovely  countesses,  dukes, 
ministers,  and  always  the  prettiest  lot  of  girls  to  be 
seen  in  the  city." 

Lord  Beaufort  interrupted.  "  I  must  make  her 
acquaintance  at  once,  so  as  to  be  invited  to  her 
evenings." 

"  I  will  present  you,  my  lord,"  said  Miss  Leslie. 
"  She  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"Thanks,"  murmured  the  earl,  "you  are  too  kind. 
I  am  all  impatience.  Shall  we  go  now  ?  " 

"No,"  said  she,  calmly,  "but  some  day  in  the  dis- 
tant future." 

He  looked  at  her  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"Which  means"  (eagerly)  "that  I  am  to  see  you 
again  ?  " 

She  bit  her  lip,  but  answered  frankly  : 


138  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  Yes,  you  will  see  me,  you  will  come  to  see  me. 
Would  you  care  to  ?  "  raising  her  eyes.  "  I  imagined 
you  wished  me  to  ask  you,  and — and  I  do." 

He  was  half  angry  and  longed  to  repay  her  with  a 
refusal  to  call.  She  was  so  sure,  this  mademoiselle, 
that  every  one  who  saw  her  only  needed  one  look  to 
throw  himself  at  her  feet.  He  presumed  that  she 
had  already  placed  him  on  her  catalogue  of  victims. 
If  she  only  knew  the  truth  !  Realizing  it  himself, 
he  grew  more  cairn  and  answered  : 

"  You  are  frank.  Yes,  I  did  wish  you  to  ask  me, 
and  you  know  that  I  shall  be  honored  to  pay  my  re- 
spects to — madame  your  aunt."  He  could  not  for- 
bear this  last  little  cut.  She  looked  up  most  amu- 
sedly. 

"  Tell  the  truth.  You  wish  to  come  also  to  see 
me,  riest-ce  pas  ?  " 

How  could  he  hold  out  against  such  coquetry  ? 
She  read  him  so  well ! 

"  I  told  the  truth,  but  not  the  whole  truth.  I  do 
wish  to  pay  my  respects  to  Mrs.  Adrian,  but  I  wish 
above  all  to  come  to  see  you.  Are  you  satisfied  ?  " 
this  half  humbly. 

"  It  is  almost  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me,"  she 
said,  laughingly  ;  "  but  I  am  satisfied — satisfied, 
pleased,  rather,  that  you  did  not  slight  me  inten- 
tionally ;  and  had  you  insisted  that  you  wished  only 
to  see  my  aunt,  I  could  not  but  have  felt  hurt." 

"I  see,"  said  he,  "that  you  are  fond  of  badinage. 
Well,  so  am  I  ;  but  with  you  one  should  needs  be 
most  serious " 

"  That  lady  to  the  right,"  was  heard  in  Mr.  Blake- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  139 

man's  cheery  voice,  "  is  a  belle  in  the  colony.  She  is 
Miss  Robarson,  and " 

"  I  have  allowed  you  to  monopolize  long  enough 
Mr.  Blakeman,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian.  "You  must  al- 
low me  to  describe  her,  Lady  Eleanor,"  turning 
toward  her  ladyship  ;  "  Miss  Robarson  is  not  only  a 
beauty,  but  has  also  another  distinguishing  quality. 
Her  foot  is  so  small  that  a  shoemaker  in  the  Rue  29 
Juillet  has  placed  a  tiny  slipper  on  exhibition,  de- 
claring it  to  be  hers.  Gentlemen  of  title,  from  far 
and  near,  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  cobbler's  shrine. 
The  owner  of  this  Cinderella-like  slipper  has  refused 
more  wedding  rings  than  any  lady  in  Paris  ;  but 
what  can  be  more  fascinating  to  a  gentleman  than  to 
catch  sight  of  a  beautiful  face,  a  beautiful  dress — for 
she  dresses  superbly — and  a  foot  peeping  from  be- 
neath her  robe  which  would  have  captivated  Prince 
Charming  himself." 

"  Mrs.  Adrian,"  said  Blakeman,  "you  are  the  best 
woman  in  this  world,  and  have  spoken  with  great 
truth." 

Mrs.  Adrian  smiled  knowingly,  and  the  artist  re- 
turned her  smile  without  knowing  why. 

"  And  that  fair  woman  standing  by  the  Psyche," 
said  her  ladyship,  "who  is  she  ?  Her  face  has  a  his- 
tory in  it." 

Mr.  Blakeman  ahemmed  :  "  I  can  tell  you,  but  my 
remarks  may  be  in  bad  form.  Yet,  as  you  say,  her 
face  bears  marks  of  a  history,  and  I  think  I  can  tell 
you  what  that  history  is.  Attention,  every  body." 
He  continued  : 

"  Her  name  is  Mrs.  Kate  Dartmore.     She  came  to 


Marked  "In  Haste" 

Paris  just  before  the  fall  of  the  empire,  and  wished, 
above  all  things,  to  be  presented.  The  brain  of 
every  dressmaker  in  the  city  was  taxed  to  combine, 
devise,  construct,  fabricate — yes,  I  think  that  word 
fabricate  will  do — a  toilette  suitable  to  the  lady's 
position.  Her  husband  was  a  laboring  man  who  had 
struck  ore  in — in  somebody  else's  mine  ;  her — yes, 
his  enormous  wealth,  and  her  incomparable  beauty, 
and— 

"  Beauty  !  "  echoed  her  ladyship,  "  that  is  the  first 
time  we  have  heard  the  word  mentioned.  Was  she 
once  beautiful  ? " 

"  As  an  angel,"  said  he  ;  "  and  now,  even  now — 
where  was  I  ?  " 

"  There  is  just  where  you  were,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian. 
"Her  beauty " 

He  breathed  more  freely. 

"Her  beauty,  yes,"  he  said.  "Well,  never  mind 
about  that — her  dress " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  her  ladyship,  "  we  are  coming  to  that  ; 
what  was  it  ?  but — I  am  not  curious." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Mr.  Blakeman,  "  we  are  none  of  us 
that,  but,  as  I  said  before,  her  dress  was — well,"  des- 
perately, "  her  dress  finally  had  to  be  made  in  Lon- 
don." 

"  No,  impossible  f"  said  the  ladies,  in  a  breath. 

"  Why,  how  could  that  be  ? "  said  Mrs.  Adrian. 

"  I  will  explain,"  said  he  gravely.  "  She  finally 
decided  that  her  dress  should  be  made  by  some 
American  dressmaker.  It  was  to  be  of  violet  vel- 
vet, and  her  patriotism  was  so  great  that  she  wished 
even  the  material  of  American  fabric.  The  train  was 


Marked  "In  Haste"  141 

to  be  seven  yards  in  length  and  lined  with  white  kid. 
The  couturier  was  desperate  and  refused  the  order. 
Her  husband,  more  reasonable,  explained  why. 
'  How,'  said  he,  '  can  he  line  it  with  that  ?  White 
kid,  indeed  !  when  there's  none  but  black  sheep  to 
be  found  in  the  whole  American  colony  in  Paris  ? ' ' 

He  was  interrupted  with  roars  of  laughter.  Her 
ladyship  thought  if  any  husband  was  as  witty  as 
that  the  woman  who  was  his  wife  ought  to  be  well 
content. 

"  But  the  rest  of  my  story,"  said  the  artist.  "  Her 
grief  was  real,  and  she  took  it  so  much  to  heart,  not 
having  both  her  patriotism  and  ambition  gratified 
by  getting  what  she  wanted  in  Paris,  that  her  beauty 
began  to  fade." 

"Where  was  her  dress  finally  made,  or  was  it  ever 
made  ? "  said  her  ladyship. 

"Yes,"  said  the  artist,  "she  was  consoled  by  hav- 
ing it  made  in  London.  The  dress  was  a  success  as 
the  kid  was  made  from  some  of  Victoria's  extra  un- 
fleeced.  They  had  browsed  in  Hampton  Court,  had 
taken  ten  prizes  at  the  Agricultural  shows,  and  the 
Princess  of  Wales  had  hung  a  V.  C.  around  the  neck 
of  the  whitest— or  the  blackest,  which  was  pro- 
nounced by  all  to  be  the  fairest.  In " 

Mrs.  Adrian  was  convulsed  with  laughter. 

"You  forget,  my  friend,  that  you  are  speaking  to 
an  English  lady,  and  I  know  Lord  Beaufort  will 
never  forgive  you." 

"Indeed,  Mrs.  Adrian,"  said  the  Earl,  "I  would 
not  have  the  gentleman  spoil  his  story  for  my  sake 
for  anything.  Pray  let  us  hear  some  more." 


142  Marked  "In  Haste." 

"  I  am  dumb,"  said  the  artist,  "but  if  her  ladyship 
has  had  enough  celebrities  pointed  out,  I  will  stop 
here." 

"No,"  said  the  lady,  "  I  must  ask  who  that  distin- 
gue man  is  near  the  heroine  of  the  dress  ? " 

"That,"  said  he,  "is  Mr.  Tom  Darvis,  an  indefati- 
gable society  man,  and  as  welcome  in  a  soiree  as  iced 
champagne.  Do  not  lose  your  heart,  my  lady.  He 
is  a  woman-hater.  Not  woman-hater,  but  a  perfect 
connaisseur  des  femmes." 

"That,"  interrupted  Miss  Leslie  "is  impossible! 
No  man  is  a  perfect  anything." 

The  gentlemen  bowed. 

"An  ungracious  speech  from  Miss  Leslie,"  said 
the  Earl  to  her,  in  a  low  voice,  "is  more  welcome 
than  a  compliment  from  another." 

Mrs.  Adrian  was  then  heard  to  remark  : 

"  Countess  Costanza  Gianetti !  Why,  certainly,  she 
is  most  charming,  and  is  the  wife  of  that  gentleman 
who  has  so  many  medals.  He  is  first  aide-de-camp 
to  the  Crown  Prince  of  Italy,  and  she  is  one  of  the 
amiable  Americans  who  make  the  Italian  capital 
so  agreeable  a  place  of  sojourn  for  her  compatriots. 
The  beautiful  blonde  is  Miss  Royles,  a  California 
millionnaire  heiress  ;  and  that  slender  girl  in  the  cor- 
ner  " 

"She's  almost  pretty,"  interrupted  her  ladyship. 

"So-so,"  she  said,  with  indifference.  "She's  nice 
enough,  but  wishes  to  be  a  singer." 

"  An  Opera  singer  ?  "  said  the  lady,  in  horror. 

"Even  so,"  she  responded,  "but  she  has  many 
lukewarm  friends  in  Paris.  She  is  not  sought  after 


Marked  "In  Haste"  143 

at  all  in  society,  because  she  has  little  or  no  money. 
The  Minister  and  his  wife  are  very  kind  to  her.  She 
was  recommended  to  them,  and  they  seem  also  to 
like  her.  Of  course,  she  is  not  overwhelmed  with 
attention  from  anybody  on  account  of  the  fact  be- 
fore mentioned.  The  fact  is,  it  is  impossible  to  go 
in  good  American  society  in  Paris  unless  one  is  very 
rich.  One  must " 

"  Stop,"  said  Gratiot,  laughing ;  "  I  have  often 
heard  you  say  that.  Many  are  not  wealthy.  How 
do  they  succeed,  Blakeman  ? " 

"  I,"  said  he,  gaily  ;  "  I  ?  me  ?  Why,  I  have  expecta- 
tions, I  paint  pictures,  and  I  always  manage  to  have 
rich  friends,  and  never  to  be  seen  but  with  them  in 
their  company ! " 

Impossible  not  to  recognize  the  rare  discernment 
of  the  artist. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  "every  one  in  this 
room  is  distinguished  for  something.  Those  ladies 
there  have  an  invaluable  father.  His  chemical 
business  is  colossal.  His  chemicals  are  poor,  but 
the  business  is  good.  They  claim  a  descent  from 
something,  and  the  motto  on  their  adopted  coat-of- 
arms  is :  'I  die,  but  never  change  color.'  That 
lady  near  them,"  indicating  all  three,  "was  a  widow, 
and  has  married  a  man  once  a  miner,  who  has  dis- 
covered a  lake  of  silver  in  Nevada.  She  mingles 
with  the  throng  quite  as  simply  as  if  her  husband 
did  not  intend  being  the  richest  man  in  the  world." 

"  Ah  !  what  rare  intelligence  and  simplicity  !  "  said 
the  Lady  Eleanor,  sweetly. 

"The  young    ladies,"    said    Mrs.    Adrian,  "come 


144  Marked  "In  Haste" 

from  the  Far  West.  Their  social  position  is  now  as- 
sured. The  father,  on  dit,  was  once  a  prize-fighter, 

and  when  he  ran  for  Mayor  of  C ,  no  one  dared 

personally  to  go  against  him.  He  is  now  editor  of  a 
large  journal,  and  having  no  more  political  prestige, 
thinks  strongly,  it  is  said,  of  returning  to  the  profes- 
sion of  his  youth.  You  know,  "Ton  revient  toujours  d, 
ses premieres  a?nours." 

Just  then  the  attention  of  the  little  gathering  was 
attracted  by  the  appearance  of  an  immensely  corpu- 
lent woman  who  forced  her  way  through  the  throng, 
scattering  everybody  to  the  right  and  left,  as  a  sev- 
enty-four gun  ship  under  full  sail  would  a  fleet  of 
small  boats  across  her  bows.  She  had  under  her  arm 
a  rather  pretty  girl,  whom  she  dragged  along  as — to 
continue  the  figure — a  big  ship  would  a  little  tug. 
Her  dull  gray  eyes  were  protruding,  fishy,  and  spec- 
tacled. Her  mouth  large,  coarse,  sensual,  cruel ; 
her  vast  cheek  in  folds,  her  neck  a  series  of  super- 
abundant flesh  overlaying  like  the  scales  of  an  alli- 
gator, her  walk  a  waddle,  her  bust  a  vast  mass  that 
projected  like  a  swell  in  the  side  of  a  mountain. 
As  she  thus  sailed  along,  she  attracted  universal 
attention  from  every  quarter  of  the  crowded  apart- 
ments. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  who  is  that  an — lady  ? "  ejaculated 
the  Earl,  as  she  swept  by  him  and  nearly  carried  him 
from  his  feet. 

"That?"  replied  Allani,  "that  is  the  celebrated 
Mrs.  Sanglier." 

"And  what  may  be  her  metier?" 

"Oh,  the  pen." 


-     Marked  "fn  Haste"  145 

"  Pen  ?  what  kind  of  a  pen  ?  Not  the  pen  in  which 
are  herded  certain  quadrupeds  ? " 

"You  are  deceived  by  her  appearance.  It  is  not 
that  kind  of  a  pen.  It  is  that  pen  which  is  said  to  be 
'mightier  than  the  sword.'  She  writes  for  the  pa- 
pers, and  her  pen  acts  like  what  veterinary  surgeons 
call  a  '  seton  ' — she  employs  it  in  drawing  off  the 
venom  from  her  system,  which  would  otherwise  poi- 
son her." 

"  For  shame  !  "  said  the  gentle  Ethel. 

"  Possibly.  But  true,  all  the  same.  I  must  give 
you  the  facts.  You  would  not  like  me  to  deceive 
you,  mats  allons.  She  has  a  slight  official  connec- 
tion, which  she  uses  for  securing  scandals  for  publi- 
cation. She  hates  everybody,  but  is  the  toady  of  a 
rich  resident  of  the  American  colony.  She  hates  her 
as  she  does  all  the  world,  but  writes  paeans  to  her, 
so  that  she  may  be  invited  to  her  entertainments, 
and  because  she  has  a  sympathy  for  the  auriferous 
yellow  (the  tint  of  envy)  of  the  atmosphere  which 
envelops  the  presence  of  the  millionnaire.  Some 
day  she  will  bite  herself,  and  then  the  world  will 
hear  of  another  death  from  blood  poisoning.  But,  ta- 
ta  to  this  subject.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  handling  a  toad. 
Let's  change  it.  My  mouth  is  already  blistered." 

"You  are  too  cruel  !  "  said  the  ladies,  and  then  the 
subject  was  dropped. 

What  a  world  of  people  !  Mrs.  Adrian  just  then 
bowed  to  a  handsome  couple  who  seemed  to  carry 
happiness  about  with  them,  their  faces  were  so  ani- 
mated. It  was  Mrs.  Florence  Rice,  the  well  known 
contralto,  and  her  charming  husband.  There  was 
7 


146  Marked  "In  Haste." 

another  lady  with  two  beautiful  girls,  who  walked 
with  the  grace  of  a  Braganza.  "  Spanish- Ameri- 
can," said  Mr.  Gratiot ;  "  Madame  Cardoza  and  her 
daughters." 

It  would  be  impossible  to  name  every  one  pres- 
ent. The  "wee  sma'  hours  "  of  the  morning  were 
near  at  hand,  although  as  fast  as  one  went  away, 
others  came.  A  Minister's  reception  in  Paris  is  a 
serious  thing.  It  seems  unending.  Lady  Eleanor 
came  up  to  say  good  night. 

"  I  have  just  heard  such  a  good  thing!  Listen," 
said  Mr.  Allani.  "That  young  lady  in  violet  moire 
is  Miss  Fanny  Stanford,  of  Chicago.  She  had 
been  ten  years  in  a  finishing  school  in  New  York, 
and  came  home  with  her  education  complete.  Her 
friends  said  that  no  young  lady  in  America  could 
manage  a  train  as  well  as  she.  At  her  first  ball  in 
her  native  city,  some  one,  speaking  of  Europe, 
said  that  they  had  seen  Minister  X.  in  a  box  at  the 
Opera.  'A  minister,'  she  shrieked,  'at  the  theatre  ! 
'Yes.'  Her  guest  (who  had  travelled)  with  some 
surprise  explained  :  '  Yes,  Miss  Fanny,  a  Minister, 
but  Plenipotentiary.'  That  last  was  a  crusher. 
Turning  to  her  brother,  she  said  in  a  loud  voice  : 
'  Plenipotentiary — well,  what  religion  is  that  ?  I  am 
sure  I  never  even  heard  of  it  before.'  Her  brother 
explained,  blushing  ;  '  Oh  you  know,  Fannie,  minis- 
ter for  the  penitentiary.  You  understand  me  ! ' 

"  Stop,  stop,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  laughing.  "  How 
can  you  talk  so  much  scandal  ?  but — it  is  funny." 

"  How  much  money  did  you  say  she  had  ?  "  inter- 
rupted Beaufort,  with  an  amused  air. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  147 

"  I  didn't  say  she  had  any,  responded  Allani,  but 
you  have  taken  it  for  granted.  She  has  ten  thou- 
sand a  year.  Her  father  settled  up  the  affairs  of  a 
defunct  corporation,  and  now  owns  a  saw-mill  on 
the  Mississippi."  Mrs.  Adrian  made  a  final  move. 

"We  must  go  home,  Ethel — come."  Then  they  said 
adieu. 

The  Earl  was  happy.  The  memory  of  strange 
events  rushed  through  his  brain.  He  knew  her  at 
last,  his  idol,  his  beautiful  incognita.  He  had  been 
invited  to  call,  and  on  the  morrow  he  might  see  her 
again.  Fate  had  indeed  been  kind.  When  he  had 
said  good-night,  he  returned  to  the  supper-room.  It 
was  some  time  before  he  could  get  to  the  corner  where 
he  had  been  seated  with  Miss  Leslie ;  but,  patience,  a 
soiree  must  end  some  time.  Mrs.  Washburne  was 
still  smiling  in  the  salon,  the  tall  form  of  the  Minis- 
ter, with  his  fine  honest  face,  was  seen  beside  her. 
All  took  away  a  pleasant  souvenir  of  their  reception, 
and  many  American  hearts  had  been  gladdened  and 
made  happier  that  evening.  We  may  hate  our  com- 
patriots, but  no  one  is  so  utterly  base  as  not  to  feel  a 
throb  of  pleasure  on  hearing  his  native  tongue  spoken 
in  a  foreign  land.  We  have  all  been  young.  A  souv- 
enir of  childhood  should  be  one  of  tender,  even  sacred 
reminiscence.  What  awakens  it  so  quickly  as  the 
sound  of  one's  own  language  spoken — a  familiar  ac- 
cent, if  not  a  familiar  voice  ?  Worldliness  sometimes 
gives  way  to  patriotism.  Every  one  likes  to  be  well 
received  by  his  country's  representative. 

Brandon  thought  it  was  time  to  go.  "  One  mo- 
ment," said  Beaufort,  "  and  I  will  join  you." 


148  Marked  "In  Haste" 

He  looked  cautiously  about,  then  stepped  nearer 
to  the  place  where  Miss  Leslie  had  been  seated. 
With  the  dexterity  of  Hermann,  he  stooped  and 
picked  up  something.  It  was  a  jasmin  flower  with 
faded  petals,  trampled  heart,  and  broken  at  the  stem. 
Yet  there  was  something  still  attractive  about  it.  To 
get  the  fine  odor  that  the  Ottoman  loves,  we  must 
crush  the  blossom  ;  but  dearer  than  flower  or  perfume 
was  the  poor  once-forsaken  thing.  She  had  caressed 
it.  Brandon  neared  his  kinsman  and  watched  him 
curiously.  Just  as  the  Earl  thrust  it  into  his  bosom 
their  eyes  met. 

Beaufort  colored  almost  painfully,  but  he  only 
made  a  movement  en  serrant  sa  trouvaille  more  closely. 
He  said  softly,  "  My  heart  dictated  and  I  followed 
its  lead." 

Brandon  looked  serious.  Not  a  word  was  spoken 
until  they  were  in  the  carriage,  then  he  said,  "  Per- 
haps you  were  right.  What  does  Owen  Meredith 
think  ? 

'  And  I  think  in  the  lives  of  most  women  and  men, 

There's  a  time  when  all  things  would  go  smooth  and  even, 
If  only  the  dead  knew  the  moment  when 
To  come  back  and  be  forgiven.' " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LOVE. 

WHEN  they  reached  home  Beaufort  spoke  to  his 
kinsman. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  "  let  us  have  a  little  talk  ;  not  a 
little  but  a  lengthy,  a  serious  conversation,  if  you 
will,  unless  you  are  too  tired  and  wish  to  say  good 
night." 

Athol  looked  at  him  affectionately.  "  I  was  al- 
most going  to  ask  it  of  you,"  he  said,  "  so  you  know 
with  what  readiness  I  consent  to  your  suggestion." 

The  hotel  was  not  dull  as  some  houses  are  when 
the  family  has  gone  to  a  ball,  the  fires  had  gone 
down,  and  not  a  servant  was  to  be  found  for  love  or 
money.  On  the  contrary,  everything  looked  most  in- 
viting. Bell,  with  rare  thoughtfulness,  had  a  petit 
souper  arranged  on  a  table  in  the  smoking-room  ; 
there  was  wine,  cigars,  and,  more  comforting  than 
all,  some  fine  old  brandy,  and  bottles  of  soda  water. 
The  curtains  were  drawn,  the  fire  was  blazing  in 
an  open  grate,  and  the  room  had  an  air  of  comfort 
positively  inviting.  Beaufort  hastily  drank  some  of 
his  favorite  beverage  at  that  late  hour  of  the  morn- 
ing. It  was  not  very  late,  however,  and  the  clock  had 


150  Marked  "In  Haste" 

but  just  struck  one  hour  after  midnight,  or  maybe 
it  had  passed  the  half-hour,  surely  no  more  than 
that.  Athol  also  had  some  brandy  and  soda  water  ; 
then,  taking  cigars,  they  drew  up  before  the  fire  to 
talk.  It  is  a  mistaken  idea  that  only  women  have 
this  habit.  They  have  dainty  feet  to  place  on  the 
fender,  slim  ankles  to  peep  forth  from  their  lace 
petticoats,  and  they  bend  their  forms  to  the  move- 
ment of  an  undulating  chair,  with  bright  eyes  fixed 
on  the  glowing  embers.  Men  do  all  this  minus  the 
petticoats,  not  showing  the  ankles,  and  not  swaying 
back  and  forth  in  their  seats  ;  but  fixing  their  eyes 
on  the  fire  and  lending  themselves  with  quite  as 
much  facility  to  the  charm  of  having  a  "good  talk." 
Brandon  commenced  the  conversation.  He  looked 
at  the  Earl  and  then  said,  questioningly : 

"Well,"  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  am  ready  and  lis- 
tening." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  her  ?  "  said  Beaufort,  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  By  her,  you  mean,  of  course,  Miss  Leslie  ? " 
he  answered  quietly. 

"  Naturally,"  said  the  Earl  ;  "who  but  she  is  ever 
in  my  thoughts  now  ?  " 

"  She  is  certainly  most  lovely,"  said  his  kinsman, 
"and  I  should  say  also  very  intelligent.  Her  man- 
ners— in  fact,  dear  Francis,  you  have  not  exagger- 
ated her  appearance  in  the  slightest ;  but " 

"  But  what  ?"  said  the  Earl,  quickly. 

"  I  wish  you  had  never  met  her.  I  can  find  noth- 
ing against  her.  She  seems  in  every  way  correct ; 
but  I  could  scarcely  realize,"  he  continued,  quickly, 


Marked  "In  Haste"  151 

"  on  looking  at  her,  that  her  life  holds  a  secret  and 
that  all  you  have  told  me  has  positively  taken  place. 
I  must  say  I  think  her  a  very  dangerous  woman  to 
be  intimate  with  ;  and  I  would  to  God  that  she  had 
never  crossed  your  path." 

Athol  replied  seriously  and  with  infinite  sweet- 
ness of  tone.  "  I  realize  all  that  you  say,  yet  it  is 
too  late  to  help  myself.  I  confess  that  I  love  her  as 
I  have  never  loved  before — as  never  man  loved  be- 
fore. She  has  so  completely  enthralled  my  being 
and  my  senses,  that  I  am  scarcely  master  of  either 
in  her  presence.  I  think  of  her  twenty-four  hours 
in  the  day  ;  I  think  of  her  sixty  minutes  of  the  hour ; 
I  think  of  her  sixty  seconds  of  every  minute.  I 
would  give  everything  I  possess,  at  this  moment,  to 
call  her  mine,  and  would  consider  no  sacrifice  could 
it  but  bring  me  nearer  to  her.  I  would  go  to  the 
end  of  the  world  to  serve  her,  and  I  would  lay  down 
my  very  life  at  her  feet.  What  makes  me  most  un- 
happy, for  I  cannot  call  it  a  felicitous  business  as  yet, 
is  that  my  mind  is  torn  by  conflicting  emotions.  Do 
not  think,"  he  continued,  hastily,  "that  I  can  ever 
love  her  less  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  light  of  that  pas- 
sion burns  a  fixed  flame  in  my  heart.  But  I  some- 
times doubt  her,  and  I  sometimes  have  a  bad  opinion 
of  her,  albeit  I  never  love  her  less.  This  to  me  is  tor- 
ture. I  have  always  worn  in  my  breast  an  ideal 
woman  whose  moral  beauty  and  virtues  would  equal 
her  physical  charms,  whose  life  should  be  a  clean, 
unsullied  page,  whose  virginal  eyes  would  look  their 
first  glance  of  love  into  mine. 

"  How  is  my  dream  realized  ?     I  have  found  more 


152  Marked  "In  Haste." 

than  I  had  ever  hoped  as  regards  personal  beauty, 
but  the  rest — what  can  I  say  of  the  rest  ?  Her  intel- 
ligence is  undoubted,  her  repartee  is  the  very  essence 
of  refinement ;  but  her  life  is  a  double  one,  her  heart 
holds  another  image,  and  a  mystery  that  presents  a 
most  unattractive  face  enslaves  her  mind  as  well  as 
body.  Is  she  maid,  mistress,  or  wife  ?  How  often 
have  I  asked  myself  these  questions  !  how  often 
does  only  the  hollow  echo  of  my  own  heart  make 
answer  ;  and  yet  I  love  her.  I  love  the  soft  fascina- 
tion of  her  manner  when  she  is  tender.  I  love  her 
shapely  head  when  she  throws  it  up  in  unconscious 
hauteur.  I  love  the  dark  hair  that  caresses  her  neck. 
I  love  the  violet-hazel  eyes  that  imprison  so  many 
fires.  I  love  the  slender  hands  that  toy  with  her 
rings,  fan,  or  her  handkerchief.  I  love  her  witching 
gowns  that  fall  in  voluptuous  harmony  about  her 
body.  I  love  her  smile,  whether  grave,  gay,  or  sar- 
castic. I  love  every  minute  particle  of  herself.  I 
love  everything  she  looks  upon,  and  every  object 
that  her  hand  touches.  In  short,  I  love  her  madly, 
devotedly,  desperately  ;  and  instead  of  being  happy 
in  thus  loving,  as  I  once  dared  to  anticipate  and 
hope,  I  am  wretched,  I  am  wretched,  and  the  earth 
does  not  hold  another  so  miserable  a  creature  as  I  am  ! 
"  Do  you  know,"  continued  he,  looking  at  his 
cousin  with  almost  fierce  despair;  "  do  you  know  the 
depth  of  such  a  passion  as  mine  ?  To  think,  think, 
think  all  day  upon  one  object ;  to  have  one  name 
running  constantly  in  your  thoughts;  to  go  to  bed  at 
night  still  thinking  on  the  same  subject;  to  watch  the 
stars  fade  with  sleeplessness  and,  when  the  long, 


Marked  "In  Haste"  153 

weary  hours  of  the  night  have  worn  themselves  away, 
to  finally  lose  one's  self  only  to  dream  of  the  fatal  sor- 
ceress ;  to  dream  heavily  ;  to  dream  lightly  ;  to  see 
her  in  visions  of  brightness  ;  to  see  her  in  robes  of 
sorrow  and  night  ;  to  see  her  with  another;  then  to 
clasp  to  one's  breast  a  lovely  being  ;  to  live  perhaps 
hours  of  ecstasy  in  a  single  moment ;  to  feel  one's 
arms  about  a  thing  of  softest,  most  sensuous  clay  ;  to 
see  it  recede  and  pale  into  a  vision  of  amber  light ; 
to  call  to  it  '  return  !  come  back  ! '  to  awake  just  as 
the  last  hem  of  a  garment  has  faded  into  the  ob- 
livion of  nothingness;  to  know  that  it  has  been  only 
a  dream  ;  to  feel  your  heart  throbbing,  a  sickening 
sensation  run  electric  like  through  the  senses ;  to 
feel  a  choking  in  your  throat;  to  feel  your  blood 
tingling;  to  hear  echo  and  echo  again  through  your 
brain  one  name,  one  and  always  the  same,  that  of 
the  loved  object;  to  find  one's  self  alone,  yet  not 
alone,  tortured  yet  enthralled,  happy  yet  miserable; 
to  look  forward  to  the  coming  of  another  day;  to 
watch  the  sun  rise  on  one's  hopes  as  it  set  on  them 
the  night  before;  to  be  in  short,  in  love,  madly, 
hopelessly  in  love  as  I  am — this  is  my  condition  ! " 

The  Earl  finished,  and  bowed  his  head  in  his 
hands.  Athol  rose  softly  and  went  toward  him. 
He  took  his  hands  from  his  face,  as  a  mother  might 
have  done,  with  all  a  mother's  tenderness.  He 
smoothed  his  hair,  his  fingers  touched  his  shoulder 
instinctively,  then  he  took  both  his  kinsman's  hands 
in  his,  and  looked  him  tenderly  in  the  eye. 

"Dear  old  fellow,  dear  old  boy,"  said  he,  sooth- 
ingly; "has  it  really  come  to  this?  What  can 
7* 


154  Marked  "In  Haste." 

I  say  to  console  you  ?  What  can  I  do  to  help 
you  ?  Will  you  trust  in  me  ?  Remember  that  since 
we  played  together  as  children,  I  have  known 
but  one  friendship,  you  are  that  friend.  I  love 
you  as  a  brother.  Let  me  be  that  brother.  The 
dearest  feelings  of  my  soul  are  tuned  in  accord  with 
yours,  and  we  have  grown  up  together,  entwining 
our  affections  as  young  vines  do  their  tendrils,  scarce 
knowing  in  the  end  which  is  the  parent  stem.  I 
have  always  thought  of  you  as  the  best  part  of 
myself,  and  my  grief  is  beyond  all  words  to  see  you 
in  this  state.  It  is  not  that  one  should  not  love,  and 
that  another  would  not  take  this  to  heart  as  you  do. 
But  in  your  position,  with  your  ideas  of  honor,  and 
honorable  affections,  the  doubt  that  you  love  un- 
worthily is  most  terrible.  It  seems  a  death-blow  to 
all  hope,  and  yet,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  Could  you, 
can  you,  will  you  forget  her  ? " 

"  Forget  her ! "  he  started,  angrily,  then  settled 
back  in  his  chair  with  a  deep  sigh.  "  Forget  her ! " 
he  repeated;  "you  know  not  what  you  ask.  God 
knows  I  believe  I  would  if  I  could.  But,  no  ;  why 
should  I  ?  Am  I  not  free,  free  to  love  ? " 

"  Yes,"  responded  his  cousin,  "  you  are  free  ;  but 
is  she  ? — free  to  love,  perhaps,  but " 

"If  she  be  free,"  interrupted  Beaufort,  "I  would 
marry  her  to-morrow." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Athol,  slowly,  "  she  may  be  free, 
might  be  free  to  love,  but  not  to  marry." 

Beaufort  paled.    "  You  mean —     "  he  said,  faintly. 

"I  mean,"  said  Brandon,  boldly,  "that  I  think  she 
is  married  already." 


Marked  "In  Haste."  155 

The  Earl  started  from  his  chair. 

"  It  cannot  be  possible  ! "  he  said,  half-doubtingly. 

"After  having  seen  the  lady,"  Brandon  answered, 
slowly,  "  I  do  her  the  justice  to  say  that  I  think  she 
is  a  wedded  wife.  I  could  not  think  otherwise,  nor 
can  I  conceive  how  you  can  think  other  than  I  do. 
We  may  both  be  deceived — she  may  be  as  guilty  as 
another,  but  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  class  her 
with  those  to  whom  reputation  is  a  myth,  honesty  a 
farce,  and  intrigue  the  bread  and  meat  of  daily  life. 
Now,  my  dear  boy,  let  us  talk  reasonably.  Consid- 
ering, as  we  do,  that  the  lady  is  married — probably 
secretly — what  can  be  your  future  course  of  action 
in  the  matter?  You  certainly  cannot  count  upon 
keeping  up  this  farce  of  playing  attendant  any 
longer  ;  you  love  her  too  well.  Why  not  bide  your 
time,  await  the  course  of  events,  if  you  will,  meet 
her — meet  her  in  society ;  but  do  commence  to  tell 
yourself  that  you  love  hopelessly  (at  least  for  aught 
you  know  at  present  to  the  contrary),  and  struggle 
to  bear  it  like  a  man.  Believe  me,  that  sooner  or 
later,  your  own  common  sense  will  come  to  the 
rescue  ;  you  will  be  able  to  look  upon  her  as  upon 
all  other  women,  and  gradually  this  mad  passion 
will  wear  itself  out." 

Beaufort  looked  at  him  as  he  ceased  speaking. 
Then  he  said,  half  aloud,  as  if  communing  with  him- 
self: 

"  And  you  think  this  is  possible  ?  You  thought 
you  knew  me  ?  I  admit  that  you  speak  in  reason  ; 
but  I  feel,  I  know  I  can  never  separate  my  mind 
from  thoughts  of  her.  A  man  meets  many  women 


156  Marked  "In  Haste" 

in  his  day  ;  he  learns  the  value  of  their  slightest 
smile  ;  he  knows  how  to  weigh  their  coquetry  to 
the  slightest  hair ;  he  knows,  above  all,  whether  he 
has  aught  in  common  with  them  ;  but  when  he  sees 
the  one  woman  of  all  the  world  destined  to  make 
him  the  happiest  or  most  miserable  of  men,  the  vul- 
nerable spot  in  his  heart  receives  an  impression 
which  is  indelible.  Struggle  as  he  may  against  it, 
the  fiat  of  fate  has  gone  forth,  and  he  recognizes  in 
that  person  his  controlling  destiny.  I  tried  hard  to 
persuade  myself  that  I  was  not  in  love,  that  I  was 
only  puzzled  as  to  the  probable  outcome  of  a  singu- 
lar adventure,  but  in  vain.  Were  I  to  tell  the  truth, 
'tis  this  :  that  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  her,  I 
have  loved  her  ;  no  one  else  has  been  in  my  mind  or 
heart,  and  I  feel  that  no  one  else  ever  will  be.  Also, 
you  must  make  great  allowances  for  the  way  in 
which  I  know  her.  Thinking  me  a  companion  or 
sort  of  confidential  attendant,  her  manner  is  sim- 
plicity itself.  She  never  practises  any  airs  or  graces 
with  me  ;  she  does  nothing  to  attract  my  attention  ; 
she  ignores  me  and  my  existence  in  the  most  abso- 
lute manner  ;  and  one  cannot  accuse  her  of  throwing 
herself  at  any  one's  head.  She  was  but  civil  to- 
night, at  the  Legation ;  and,  although  her  aunt  was 
amiable,  I  can  scarcely  say  that  mademoiselle  cares 
ever  to  see  me  again.  Courtesy  demands  that  we 
leave  our  cards,  and  beyond  that,  who  knows  what 
may  happen  ?  We  got  fairly  well  acquainted,  wThen 
I  allowed  some  idiotic  sentimentalism  to  upset  me." 

"  What  was  it  ? "  asked  Brandon. 

"  I  asked  her  for  a  flower  that  fell  from  her  bouquet 


Marked  "In  Haste"  157 

She  said  I  might  keep  it,  as  it  was  perfectly  indiffer- 
ent to  her  what  became  of  it.  She  said  :  '  Why 
should  one  broken  flower  interest  me  more  than  an- 
other ?  I  will  throw  these  all  away  when  I  get 
home.  I  will  have  others  to-morrow,  and  will  throw 
them  away  likewise  ;  also  the  next,  and  the  next.' 
Strange  words,  were  they  not  ?  They  repelled,  while 
fascinating  me  ;  yet  I  listened  to  her  as  if  her  very 
breath  were  honey ;  and  but  to  hear  her  speak,  she 
might  say  anything.  My  heart  could  not  but  beat 
faster  upon  hearing  even  the  sound  of  her  voice. 
A  propos,  I  had  one  shock  She  told  me  that  my 
voice  sounded  familiar  to  her.  I  must  disguise  it 
better  the  next  time  I  go." 

"The  next  time!"  said  Brandon,  quickly;  "you 
surely  would  never  dare  go  again,  even  should  she 
ask,  now  that  you  have  met  her." 

"  I  will  go  again,"  he  said,  with  firmness,  "  once  at 
least,  and  after  that  we  shall  see.  I  shall  promise 
nothing  hastily." 

Brandon  looked  seriously  at  him. 

"Dear  Francis,"  he  said,  "have  I  no  influence 
over  you  ?  Can  I  not  persuade  you  not  to  go  again  ? 
Pray,  pray  think  of  yourself,  think  of  your  mother, 
think  of  your  sister,  and  think  of  the  terrible  risk 
you  run,  now  that  you  know  her.  If  she  should  by 
any  means  discover  your  double  dealing,  your 
chances  of  obtaining  her  affection  seem  to  me  for 
ever  lost.  Then  should  this  secret, which  now  seems 
doubly  secret,  be  explained  away,  and  to  her  credit, 
your  own  headstrong  folly  will  have  lost  you  all. 
I  am  not  holding  out  false  hope,  but  stranger  things 


158  Marked  "In  Haste" 

than  these  have  happened  ;  and  God  knows  I  should 
be  glad  to  prove  her  the  best  and  most  virtuous  of 
women.  As  Meredith  says,  'the  world  is  full  of 
folly  and  sin.'  She  may  be  a  victim,  but  you  cannot 
help  her  cause  by  injuring  your  own,  on  the  con- 
trary ;  and  if  she  be  not  one,  I  pray  you  in  God's 
name  to  cease  these  visits  to  the  Latin  Quarter.  I  do 
not  say,  see  as  little  of  each  other  as  possible  in  society  ; 
again,  on  the  contrary,  through  this  medium  you  may 
best  know  her.  A  true  woman  shows  in  the  world 
as  does  a  diamond  when  a  strong  light  is  flashed 
upon  it.  Darkness  may  prove  it  a  pure  gem  ;  but  it 
is  only  under  the  most  penetrating  of  the  noontide 
rays  that  just  appreciation  may  be  rendered  as  to  its 
real  worth.  In  the  great  maelstrom,  then,  called  the 
world,  where  false  mingle  with  true,  where  real 
worth  jostles  with  artificial,  where  truth  is  some- 
times truth,  as  falsehood  is  sometimes  less  than 
falsehood,  there  study,  appreciate,  and  love,  if  you 
cannot  help  yourself,  your  heart's  idol.  I  can  give 
you  no  better  advice.  I  only  beg  you  to  be  reason- 
able and  to  spare  yourself  the  shame  of  learning,  by 
means  unbecoming  a  gentleman,  aught  of  a  secret 
which  appears,  at  present,  most  unpalatable,  but 
which  I  trust,  in  the  course  of  time,  must  come  to  an 
unravelling  which  will  redound  to  the  lady's  fame 
and  credit." 

"  Do  you  see  how  that  can  be  ?"  asked  Beaufort, 
abruptly. 

"  I  have  gone  well  over  all  that  you  have  told  me  in 
my  mind,"  Brandon  said,  quietly,  "and  frankly,  had 
I  not  seen  Miss  Leslie,  I  would  have  thought  much 


Marked  "In  Haste." 

worse  about  the  whole  affair  ;  now  that  I  have  seen 
her,  that  her  position  in  the  world  is  so  well  defined, 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  it,  and  I  humbly  con- 
fess that  the  circumstances  are  no  more  in  her  favor 
than  they  were  before  ;  but  she  herself  inspires  con- 
fidence, and  I  hope  that  some  honorable  solution  of 
the  mystery  may  yet  be  made  public." 

"  You  hope,"  said  the  Earl,  "that  she  is  married." 

"  Yes,"  Brandon  answered. 

"  Well,  and  I,"  said  his  kinsman,  "  I  hope  that  she 
is  not.  I  shall  try  to  win  her,  and  the  purity  of  my 
soul  shall  make  up  for  that  which  is  cloudy  in  her 
life.  My  love  is  noble,  it  cannot  but  ennoble  her. 
My  love  is  honorable,  it  cannot  but  do  her  honor. 
If  she  but  bury  her  past,  my  great  love  will  cause  me 
to  shut  my  eyes  to  it,  and  the  future,  which  belongs 
to  the  poor  as  well  as  the  rich,  shall  prove  that  J 
am  right  to  give  all  or  nothing  to  my  heart's  desire, 
my  passion " 

"  Your  passion,"  interrupted  Brandon,  "  is  just 
what  I  supposed  it  would  be  !  I  am  glad  that  you 
give  the  right  name  to  your  caprice.  Why  should 
we  deny  to  ourselves  what  men  really  are  ?  we,  who 
have  lived  and  know  how  the  strongest  fetters,  in 
the  end,  wear  away  the  chain  ?  You  say  you  love 
her  now,  very  possibly — but  how  can  you  say  what  it 
will  be  five  years  hence  ?  There  may  still  remain 
some  affection,  some  friendship,  unless  the  final  sep- 
aration is  reached  by  the  means  of  a  horrible  scan- 
dal." 

"  How  can  you,"  said  the  Earl,  half  angrily,  "be 
so  blast  and  heartless  ?  You  think,  then,  that  I  am 


160  Marked  "fn  Haste" 

not  in  love,  but  that  I  have  only  a  caprice  or  fleeting 
passion  for  Miss  Leslie  ? " 

"  It  looks  very  much  like  that  to  me,"  said  his 
cousin,  calmly. 

Beaufort  started  to  his  feet  angrily  and  said  :  "  It 
may  look  like  that  to  you  now,  but  I  will  prove  the 
contrary  to  you.  I  shall  never  marry  if  I  cannot  marry 
her,  and  I  am  determined  to  get  at  the  bottom  of 
this  mystery.  She  asked  me  to  call,  and  although 
the  invitation  was  not  given  with  empressement,  I  ac- 
cepted just  the  same."  He  grew  less  excited  and 
said  more  humbly  to  Brandon  :  "  I  will  give  up  my 
visits  to  the  Latin  Quarter  after  Thursday  night.  I 
must  go  once  more  ;  but  do  not  fear,  I  shall  dis- 
guise myself  a  little  more,  and  detection  will  be  im- 
possible. Do  not  dissuade  me  from  this.  I  realize 
the  truth  of  all  that  you  have  said,  with  one  excep- 
tion :  My  love  for  Miss  Leslie  is  not  a  passion,  but 
a  pure  affection,  which  can  only  cease  when  I  cease 
to  be.  I  am  willing  to  follow  any  reasonable  advice, 
but  do  not  attempt  to  counsel  me  against  my  heart's 
dearest  sentiments.  Good  night,  dear  friend,  and 
thanks.  May  you  never  know  the  misery  of  a  hope- 
less love  like  mine,  as  I  sometimes  feel  mine  to  be ; 
for  my  great  and  only  fear  is,  that  she  loves  an- 
other." 

The  young  men  looked  each  other  in  the  eyes. 
Beaufort's  face  was  inexpressibly  sad,  and  Brandon's 
was  overcast  with  painful  reflection.  He  put  his 
hand  on  his  cousin's  shoulder  and  spoke  with  great 
tenderness  to  him  : 

"  Good  night,  dearest  friend,  loved  kinsman,  and 


Marked  "In  Haste."  161 

may  peace  gently  nestle  in  your  bosom.  Love  her, 
if  you  will,  but  do  not  forget  that  I  am  near,  a  friend, 
counsellor,  and  brother.  I  would  give  my  life  that 
this  bad  business  had  never  come  about.  I  can  now 
only  help  and  comfort  you.  Forgive  me,  if  I  have 
pained  you  by  my  plain  speaking.  We  have  had 
our  first,  and  probably  last,  conversation  on  the  sub- 
ject ;  but,  believe  me,  that  now  and  ever,  I  have  only 
your  happiness  at  heart,  and  God  knows,  I  wish  that 
the  future  may  grow  brighter  to  you.  Again,  good 
night  !  Let  us  live  in  hope." 

He  smiled  as  he  spoke  and  opened  his  arms.  The 
Earl  staggered,  so  great  was  his  emotion,  but  like  a 
weary  and  heart-sick  child,  he  bowed  his  head  on  his 
kinsman's  heart.  A  moment  passed,  and  Brandon 
could  hear  the  violent  throbbing  of  his  heart,  the 
deep  breath  that  came  and  went,  and  the  laborious 
pulsations  of  the  life-blood  that  beat  back  and  forth 
through  the  veins.  It  was  loud  at  first,  then  gradu- 
ally grew  softer,  softer,  as  the  night  breeze  that 
loses  itself  so  completely  that  only  silence  rests  be- 
tween it  and  nothing.  He  remained  thus  a  moment, 
two,  perhaps  even  three,  until  his  emotion  was  spent, 
then,  lifting  his  head,  he  withdrew  from  his  kins- 
man's embrace.  A  silent  hand-clasp,  a  grateful  look 
of  truthfulness,  a  faint  "  a  demain"  and  he  was 
gone. 

Wednesday  passed,  and  the  half  engagement  to 
dine  with  the  Count  Vandalin  was  broken.  Beau- 
fort spent  the  day  in  his  apartment,  and  when  night 
came,  a  coiffeur  from  the  Rue  St.  Honore  came  to  his 
room.  Later,  a  gentleman  in  a  costume  of  homespun, 


162  Marked  "In  Haste" 

with  glasses,  and  a  foulard  about  his  neck,  hastily 
quitted  the  house.  It  was  the  attendant  Felden,  a 
little  changed  from  the  preceding  days.  A  beard 
was  slightly  perceptible  on  his  cheek,  and  his  dress 
was  of  a  cut  that  Poole  would  have  scorned.  He  was 
going  to  his  rendezvous  at  the  Avenue  Matignon. 

At  about  midnight  Lord  Beaufort  knocked  on  the 
door  of  Brandon's  room.  It  opened,  and  he  found 
his  kinsman  deep  in  a  mass  of  correspondence,  but 
glad  to  be  interrupted  by  Beaufort  The  Earl  handed 
him  a  letter  written  on  ordinary  paper. 

"  Read,"  said  he,  "  and  see  if  this  will  do."  Athol 
Brandon  took  the  missive  in  his  hand.  It  ran  : 

"  MADEMOISELLE  LESLIE  : 

"  Esteemed  Madame — I  am  obliged  to  leave  Paris 
at  an  hour's  notice,  owing  to  a  serious  illness  in  my 
family.  It  is  impossible  to  say  when  I  return,  as  I 
must  go  to  Russia.  I  am  deeply  distressed  in  every 
way  by  this  contretemps,  and  trust  that  Madame  will 
suffer  no  inconvenience  in  replacing  me.  I  have 
been  most  honored  to  serve  Madame,  and  would  be 
proud  to  resume  my  position  if,  on  my  return, 
Madame  needs  my  services.  My  address  is  always 
the  same,  Hotel  Meurice,  and  I  will  have  the  honor, 
if  Madame  will  permit  me,  to  notify  her  about  the 
time  that  I  am  likely  to  return.  With  expressions 
of  the  deepest  respect,  I  beg,  Madame,  to  accept  the 
hommages  and  devotion  of  her  most  faithful  and  obe- 
dient servant, 

"  FRANCOIS  FELDEN." 

Brandon  read,  then  a  smile  broke  over  his  face. 
He  seized  the  Earl's  hand  and  said,  "  God  bless  you, 
and  thanks  ;  but  do  you  mean  it  ? " 


Marked  "In  Haste."  163 

"  Do  I  mean  it?  "  repeated  his  cousin.  "  Yes,  and 
to  prove  to  you  that  I  am  in  earnest,  you  shall  send 
the  note  yourself." 

Brandon  looked  curiously  at  him,  and  said,  ques- 
tioningly,  "  You  have  been  to  the  Latin  Quarter  ? " 

"  I  have  been,"  said  Beaufort,  briefly,  "  and  I  hope 
I  may  never  go  again.  Ask  me  no  questions,  but 
this  night's  experience  has  decided  me.  I  never  dare 
repeat  it." 

Brandon  spoke  eagerly.  "  Shall  we  leave  Paris  ?  " 
His  kinsman  looked  up  doggedly. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "we  do  not  leave  Paris."  Then  he 
laughed  with  bitterness,  and  repeated,  emphatically, 
"We  do  not  leave  Paris,  but  I  go  no  more  to  Rue 
St.  Pere.  I  have  now  determined  to  only  meet  my 
inamorata  in  her  proper  sphere,  society.  Her  mas- 
querading no  longer  interests  me.  She  is  prob- 
ably married,  and  I  have  found  the  highways  and 
byways  of  high  life  more  than  appropriate  for  the 
propagation  of  secret  passions.  There  are  plenty  of 
Michel  Stenos  to  write,  on  even  a  duke's  chair, 
'  Marin  falliero  dalla  bella  moglie,  Altri  la  gode  ed  egli 
la  manttene.'  The  fault  is  not  in  the  sentiment,  but 
the  indecency  lies  in  making  it  public.  Let  us  fol- 
low the  ladies'  example,  and  say  '  en  cachette.'  " 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

BREAKFAST   AT   THE    COUNT'S. 

COUNT  LE"ON  VANDALIN  was  of  Hungarian  birtli 
and  extraction.  A  liberal  education  in  England, 
France,  Germany,  and  Switzerland  had  made  him  a 
complete  cosmopolitan.  He  spoke  French,  Ger- 
man, Italian  and  English  with  the  most  extraordi- 
nary facility  ;  and  his  comprehension  of  the  various 
tongues  was  so  minute  and  perfect  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  a  stranger  to  divine  his  real  nationality. 
Then,  too,  his  accent  helped  to  the  general  illusion, 
and  in  fact,  the  French  swore  he  was  a  Frenchman, 
Germans  avowed  him  a  Teuton,  while  no  one  in 
England  ever  doubted  that  he  was  a  British  subject. 
He  had  recently  married  Mademoiselle  Isaure  de 
M ,  a  scion  of  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  Nor- 
mandy, and  it  would  be  impossible  to  meet  a  more 
united  or  happier  couple.  Their  apartment  in  the 
Avenue  de  Messine  was  as  charming  as  could  be 
found  in  the  Quartier  Monceau,;  the  rooms  were 
large,  but  the  quantity  of  beautiful  tapestry  and 
bric-a-brac  made  them  seem  smaller  but  more  "  sig- 
norile"  The  magnificent  paintings  were,  some  of 
them,  family  portraits,  and  others  of  relatives  and 


Marked  "In  Haste"  165 

friends,  many  painted  by  Count  Leon's  father,  the 
Count  Andre,  one  of  the  greatest  talents  of  the  day. 
From  Countess  Isaure's  boudoir  to  the  husband's 
"den,"  as  he  called  his  fumoir,  the  house  was  per- 
fect, and  a  model  of  good  taste. 

The  Count  also  painted  en  amateur,  and  always  had 
something  on  hand.  It  might  be  a  panel  of  some 
fair  Gretchen,  a  Cupid  in  full  undress  on  a  fan,  a 
sketch  of  the  family  chateau  near  Belclairy,  a  flower, 
a  phantasy,  anything  in  fact,  but  always  something. 
Leon  Vandalin  might  have  passed  his  thirtieth  sum- 
mer, but  certainly  not  more.  He  was  a  fine-grained 
gentleman,  as  was  his  father,  and  his  father's  be- 
fore him.  I  might  save  complication  by  saying  his 
grandfather,  but  that  would  look  too  intimate,  so 
let  us  leave  it  in  the  orthodox  fashion.  He  was 
blonde,  handsome,  very  handsome,  with  a  face  of  the 
Slavonian  type.  His  eyes  were  blue,  his  hair  chest- 
nut, and  his  beard  an  ashen  blonde,  almost  golden  ; 
and  his  features  were  well  cut  and  extremely  aristo- 
cratic. It  would  be  impossible  for  any  one  to  feel 
dull  in  his  presence.  He  had  the  happiest  disposi- 
tion in  the  world,  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  besides 
being  a  thoroughly  good  fellow.  To  tell  the  truth, 
I  don't  think  one  ever  saw  him  ten  minutes  with- 
out hearing  a  hearty  roar,  for  he  laughed  easily  and 
contagiously.  He  is  so  good-humored  and  takes 
life  so  very  lazily,  that  he  is  dubbed  "Prince  de 
la  Mollasse  "  by  all  his  friends,  and  the  name  seems 
to  suit.  He  is  quite  au  fait  in  the  best  of  society  ; 
a  beau  raconteur,  and  never  enters  or  leaves  a  room 
but  the  nearest  will  ask,  "  Who  is  that  gentleman  ?  " 


1 66  Marked  "In  Haste" 

He  carries  a  perfect  train  of  pleasant  association 
with  him,  and  without  ever  seeming  to  accomplish 
much  he  is  always  busy.  His  occupation  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  words  a  "gentlemanly  homme  du 
monde."  With  taste,  leisure,  and  means  enough  to 
gratify  his  ambition,  a  round  of  duties  that  the  de- 
votee to  fashion  cannot  ignore,  each  hour  in  the  day 
has  its  special  allotment. 

How  could  he  be  otherwise  than  a  busy  man  ? 
Yet  all  this  is  accomplished  in  so  insouciant  a  way 
that  he  still  has  oceans  of  time  on  his  hands,  and  is 
called  "  Prince  de  la  Mollasse  "  to  slightly  hint  that 
he  is  lazy. 

The  salon  wore  its  cosiest  aspect.  A  cheerful  fire 
tempered  the  room  to  a  delightful  heat,  and  made 
everything  look  still  more  cheerful.  It  was  storming 
without — a  cold  November  day,  when  sleet,  rain,  and 
hail  struggle  for  ascendancy,  when  Paris  is  as  gloomy 
as  any  other  city,  and  when  nature  absolutely  belies 
the  almanac  as  to  the  seasons.  Who  could  have  the 
audacity  to  say  that  there  ever,  could  be  spring  or 
summer  in  the  face  of  such  abominable  weather  ? 
How  disgusting  that  it  should  be  that  of  all  others 
when  there  was  to  be  a  dejeuner  a  la  fourchette  with 
four  extra  covers  !  Who  could  come  out  in  such 
vile  weather  ?  Yet  no  regrets  had  been  received. 
The  Count  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  salon,  when 
a  ring  was  heard.  In  another  moment,  Mademoi- 
selle Leslie  appeared  on  the  threshold.  He  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  pleasure,  and  started  forward  with 
eager  outstretched  hands. 

"  How  good  of  you   to  come  !     Isaure  has  been 


Marked  "In  Haste.1'  167 

fearing  an  excuse  every  time  we  have  heard  the  bell ; 
but,  if  you  could  brave  the  weather,  the  gentlemen 
will  surely  not  fail  us." 

She  stopped  and  looked  admiringly  about. 

"  How  perfectly  charming  this  is  !  '  Come  ? '  Of 
course  I  would  come.  You  know  I  never  miss  an  op- 
portunity to  see  Isaure." 

"  And  me  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  You  will  never  be  ignored,"  she  said,  lightly, 
"while  you  are  even  the  worst  half  of  so  dear  a 
woman  as  your  lovely  wife." 

A  door  opened,  and  Countess  Vandalin  appeared. 
Her  first  word  was  to  her  husband. 

"  I  must  scold,  for  you  were  going  to  keep  her 
with  you,  when  /  am  waiting.  My  dear  friend  (to 
Ethel),  come  with  me  to  my  room,  and  we  can  have 
a  little  talk  before  breakfast." 

The  two  ladies  retired,  leaving  the  Count  pacing 
up  and  down  before  the  fire. 

A  sharp  ring  at  the  outer  door  a  few  moments 
later,  announced  the  probable  arrival  of  the  other 
expected  guests,  and  the  Countess  was  relieved.  She 
embraced  Ethel,  and  kissed  her  upon  both  cheeks, 
in  French  fashion,  then  they  went  into  her  boudoir. 
Ethel  was  so  much  at  home,  that  she  knew  the  ins 
and  outs  of  the  whole  house,  but  she  nevertheless 
permitted  the  smart  maid  to  take  her  things,  and 
was  as  impassive  in  her  hands  as  any  stranger  might 
have  been.  When  she  was  quite  relieved  of  her 
wraps,  they  went  into  "  My  lady's  chamber,"  where 
the  polished  mirrors  reflected  the  green  velvet  hang- 
ings. Fresh  flowers  bloomed  in  jardinieres,  and  the 


1 68  Marked  "In  Haste.1' 

white  toilette,  with  its  lace,  and  satin  bows,  and  num- 
ber of  glittering  gold  and  ivory  boxes,  reminded  one 
of  a  virginal  beauty's  table  at  a  fancy  fair. 

"  This  pretty  room  !  "  said  Mademoiselle,  looking 
contentedly  about.  "  I  do  think,  Isaure,  that  you 
have  the  very  cosiest  home  in  all  Paris.  Indeed  !  I 
must  love  you,  to  come  out  such  a  day  as  this  !  Do 
you  suppose  that  the  fine  weather  is  all  finished  ? " 

"  Finished  ?  "  echoed  her  friend.  "  No,  certainly 
not,  although  one  might  think  to-day  a  foretaste 
of  winter  in  good  earnest.  But  how  kind  of  you  to 
come,  \\ovf  gentille !  I  am  going  to  keep  you  all  day. 
And  Madame  Adrian  ?  Is  she  not  well  ?  Why  did 
she  not  come  too  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  interrupted  Ethel,  "  she  could  not, 
and  sends  her  best  excuse.  This  is  Friday,  and  mail 
day  by  the  Havre  steamer,  and  there  were  so  many 
letters  to  write.  She  is  as  American  as  ever,  and 
would  not  miss  this  weekly  communing  with  her 
dear  ones  for  a  great  deal.  She  is  so  good,  and  in 
fact,  keeps  up  my  acquaintance  for  me,  otherwise  I 
would  not  have  a  friend  left.  I  am  a  poor  letter- 
writer,  and,  I  suppose,  even  the  most  devoted  cor- 
respondent in  time  gives  up  one  who  never  answers 
one's  favors.  But,  dear  friend,  where  were  you  Tues- 
day night  ?  Such  a  charming  reception,  such  nice 
people,  and  your  dear  presence  the  only  thing  lack- 
ing to  make  the  evening  a  perfect  one  in  my  eyes." 

Countess  Isaure  answered  quickly  :  "  My  love,  I 
had  a  terrible  cold,  and  did  not  dare  go  out  ;  but  the 
next  time  I  shall  not  fail.  Whom  did  you  meet  ? 
Did  you  look  lovely,  and  how  were  you  dressed  ? " 


Marked  "fn  Haste."  169 

"Ma  chere"  she  expostulates,  "one  thing  at  a 
time.  I  met  some  old  acquaintances  and  made  three 
new  ones.  I  looked,  I  suppose,  much  as  usual,  and 
my  dress  was  one  of  my  prettiest." 

"  Have  I  seen  it  ? "  she  asked,  interestedly. 

"  Yes,  its  counterfeit.  It  is  in  turquoise  faille, 
but  it's  made  the  very  counterpart  of  your  lovely 
Vienna  dress  in  green  satin  with  the  crepe  and  crush 
roses." 

"  How  nice  !    And  Delannoy  made  it  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Where,"  said  the  lady,  walking  up  and  down, 
"  did  she  put  the  roses?  heavily  on  the  skirt,  bottom 
or  top  ?  Were  there  many  on  the  corsage  ?  You 
were  de'colletce,  of  course  (with  the  accent  of  a  prime 
minister  dictating  to  his  cabinet),  and,  I  hope,  love, 
for  your  sake,  that  not  the  slightest  thing  was  man- 
que'e.  Your  toilette  was  en  train,  naturally  ?  " 

Mademoiselle  laughed  desperately. 

"  More  en  train  than  I  was.  In  fact,  I  did  not  feel 
a  bit  like  going  out,  but  Aunt  insisted,  and— now 
that  I  think  of  it,  am  not  sorry  that  we  went." 

"  Now  that  you  think  of  it !  What  does  that 
mean  ?"  Ethel  spoke  frankly. 

"  I  met  some  nice  people." 

"Americans?" 

"No,  English." 

The  Countess  half  started. 

"  English  ?"  then  to  herself,  "  how  drole  si  cela  se 
pouvait  etre,"  and  then  aloud,  "  any  one  I  know  ?" 

"  My  dearest  friend,  how  can  I  tell  ?     Perhaps  !  " 

"  I  have  an  idea,"  said  the  countess,  in  her  liveliest 
8 


I/O  Marked  "In  Haste" 

voice,  "  and  a  presentiment  that  I  really  do  know 
the  one  you  met " 

"  Dear  wife  !"  called  out  a  voice,  "  everybody  is 
here,  myself  with  everybody,  and  we  are  waiting ; 
then,  most  important  of  all,  breakfast  is  waiting." 

They  went  at  once  to  the  salon;  and  he  con- 
tinued: 

"  Yes,  waiting,  and  the  only  thing  I  know  of  gut 
ne  vient  pas  a  point  a  qui  fait  attendre,  is  a  hot  break- 
fast, a  good  dinner,  and  the  rent  that  indignant  ten- 
ants have  a  way  of  keeping  back  for  a  late  bonne 
bouche,  the  following  season,  say." 

Impossible  not  to  laugh  at  Count  L6on's  irre- 
pressible humor.  What  a  happy  way  he  had  of 
putting  everybody  en  rapport  with  himself !  Then 
there  were  presentations  to  be  gone  through  with, 
but  to  his  surprise,  one  of  his  guests  started  with  an 
exclamation  of  real  pleasure. 

"  Mademoiselle  !  Is  it  possible  ?  what  good  for- 
tune to  meet  you  here  !  How  do  you  feel  after  the 
reception  ?  I  remember  you  complained  of  having 
been  a  little  souffrante,  an " 

" Mon  cher"  said  the  Count,  "and  you  knew  our 
friend  all  this  time  without  having  told  me  ?  What 
can  one  say  ?"  In  a  moment  it  was  explained  how 
they  had  met  at  the  house  of  the  American  Minis- 
ter, and  only  on  Tuesday  last. 

The  butler  threw  open  the  door  of  the  salle  a  man- 
ger, and  the  party  went  in  to  breakfast.  A  French 
dJ/euner  is  usually  an  agreeable  way  of  bringing 
people  together,  and  a  not  unimportant  part  is  the 
breakfast  itself.  A  chef  with  any  conscience  will 


Marked  "In  Haste. "  171 

put  before  one  the  most  appetizing  nothings  in  the 
way  of  hors-d 'auvre,  to  tempt  the  blast  palate.  He 
will  hide,  disguise,  and  conceal,  an  ordinary  lamb 
chop  with  coquettish  greens  and  peas,  so  young  and 
tender  that  they  look  like  atoms  of  the  vegetable. 
His  potatoes  will  be  fried  to  such  perfection  that 
each  slice  could  be  made  to  do  duty  in  a  guard  of 
honor.  His  capon  will  have  turned  so  many  times 
upon  the  spit,  that  even  the  gravy  wears  a  blush; 
His  beefsteak  will  know  neither  hard-heartedness 
nor  remorse;  his  little  pinch  of  radishes  will  peep  out 
from  their  nest  of  cresses ;  the  sober  olive  will  gar- 
nish an  anchovy  pate  ;  the  omelette  will  look  like  a 
golden  cow-slip  (not  egg-plant)  in  a  country  mea- 
dow; his  salad  of  romaine,  celery,  and  sliced  tomatoes 
will  be  a  bowl  of  perfection,  and  his  dessert,  with  the 
various  things  soiiffl'ees  wins  him  the  title  of  chevalier 
of  the  Legion  cfhonneur  long  before  his  patrons'  bank 
account  runs  out.  Oh,  the  brains  of  these  French 
cooks,  and  the  use  they  make  of  them  to  benefit 
mankind  !  What  a  thing  to  breakfast  or  dine  off 
plenty,  to  feel  as  if  one  had  eaten  nothing,  and  yet 
to  leave  the  table  satisfied  !  That  is  perhaps  one  of 
the  secrets  of  success  in  life. 

The  dejeuner  was  not  hurried  throughs  and  only 
the  Countess  seemed  unable  to  do  justice  to  her  cor- 
don bleu.  She  was  "  not  a  bit  hungry, "  she  said,  and  one 
could  readily  believe  her.  Such  trifling  with  toast, 
such  complete  indifference  toward  the  choicest  dishes, 
and  such  a  flagrant  lack  of  appetite,  almost  put  a 
damper  upon  the  others.  Beaufort,  of  course,  could 
not  eat  for  looking  at  Miss  Leslie  ;  and  Brandon  felt 


1/2  Marked  "In  Haste" 

himself  almost  obliged  to  follow  the  example  of  the 
Countess.  But  Count  Leon  did  ample  justice  to 
the  repast.  He  excused  himself  by  saying  that,  as 
Isaure  ate  nothing,  he  was  obliged  to  perform  the 
double  duty  of  cup-taster  and  host,  otherwise  their 
guests  might  suspect  a  concealed  poison  in  the  vi- 
ands. 

Beaufort  assured  the  Count  that  he  was  not  yet 
quite  certain  that  there  had  been  no  designs  upon 
them. 

"A  propos"  he  said,  "what  is  the  surprise  and 
where  is  it  ?  " 

"  Ungrateful  one  ! "  said  his  host,  "  It  is  beside 
you.  You  are  beside  yourself,  as  well  as  beside  it. 
Who  other  could  it  be  than  Mademoiselle  Leslie  ? 
Das  Mddchen,  meine  liebe  freunde,  etc.,  etc."  Beau- 
fort breathed  anew  : 

"  I  feared,"  said  he,  "  that  the  concealed  bitter 
would  be  some  prodigy  in  the  musical  line.  Heaven 
be  praised  !  my  fears  were  groundless.  Not  but 
what  any  one  I  had  the  honor  to  meet  at  your  house 
it  would  give  me  pleasure  to  see  ;  but  since  my  last 
morning  to  meet  a  surprise,  I  have  been  in  mortal 
terror  lest  I  may  again  encounter  a  duenna  with  her 
musical  prodigy." 

"Yes,  yes!"  laughed  Vandalin,  "I  know  them." 
And  then,  mimicking  to  perfection,  he  commenced  : 
" '  She  could  sing,'  says  the  duenna,  '  before  she 
could  talk.  At  three  years  of  age  she  surprised — a 
nightingale  in  her  bedroom,  come  to ' " 

"  For  shame,  Leon  !  "  said  his  wife,  "  how  can  you 
be  so  shocking  ?  " 


Marked  "In  Haste"  173 

"  I  protest,"  he  says  stoutly,  "  and  will  finish  my 
description.  'At  eight,  she  was  put  upon  a  table  to 
sing  for  royalty.  She  was  decorated  by  the  Lord 
High  Chamberlain  of  the  palace  with  the  order  of 
the — garter.  Commencing  young,  you  see.'  " 

"  Leon  !  Leon  ! "  interrupts  madam. 

"  I  will  be  heard,"  he  said,  and  continued  :  " '  Of 
the  garter.  At  twelve  she  is  called  '  the  baby  prodigy,' 
at  fourteen  she  has  lost  her  voice.  A  world  waits 
two  years  until  it  returns.  She  appears  again.  In 
the  meantime,  you  understand,'  severely,  '  that  / 
have  been  obliged  to  watch  over  her,  sleeping  and 
waking.  Her  decorations  are  in  a  bonded  warehouse, 
but  her  reputation  is  safe. 

" '  At  sixteen,'  she  continues,  '  we  started  out  on  a 
tour  of  the  world.  I  cannot  tell  you  the  triumphs 
that  are  showered  upon  us  ;  nor  will  you  ever  ap- 
preciate the  modesty  of  that  child.  She  scorns 
applause  and  attention,  and  I  am  obliged,  just  for  ap- 
pearance's sake,  to  accept  only  that  which  is  de  rigueur 
from  the  highest  and  richest  in  the  land,  and  to  keep 
off  the  others  with  a  red-hot  branding  iron. 

"  '  In  England,  she  sang  before  the  Queen.  Her 
ten-pound  note  (do  not  think  it  a  trifle,  I  beg; 
Neither  Rubenstein,  Grisi,  Mario,  or  Patti  ever  got 
any  more)  and  a  locket  with  the  effigy  of  music 
stamped  on  a  star  with  the  Prince  Consort,  are 
brilliant  and  ovenvhelming  tributes  to  her  genius 
and  beauty.  At  the  Crystal  Palace,  the  crowds  were 
so  great  to  hear  (not  on  a  shilling  day)  that  four 
ladies  fainted,  and  the  police  refused  any  more  ad- 
missions. The  Electric  Light  Photographers'  Union 


174  Marked  "In  Haste," 

sent  their  special  artists  to  catch  the  varied  emotions 
of  her  features  while  singing,  and  if  you  care  (I  do 
not  always  do  this)  to  have  it ' " 

"  '  Oh,  madame  ! '  I  murmur,  '  I  have  not  lived  until 
to-day  ! ' 

"  '  Thanks,  so  many  ! '  she  continues,  '  I  will  send 
it  to  you.  No — stay,  I  think,  yes,  I  am  quite  sure  I 
have  one  in  my  pocket.  It  was  intended ' — mys- 
teriously— '  for  a  private  cut  in  La  Vie  Parisienne, 
but  you  shall  have  it.  Only ' — with  a  giddy,  gur- 
gling giggle — 'don't  tell  any  one  that  I  have  put  you 
above  all  the  others.  Aurelian  (or  Cornelian,  or 
whatever  her  name  may  be)  would  be  so  disconcerted. 
As  to '  " 

" Leon,  I  insist,"  said  his  wife,  "that  you  stop 
traducing  prodigies  and  their  duennas.  How  can 
you  go  on  so  ? "  Everybody  was  shrieking  with 
laughter. 

"  No,"  said  Beaufort,  "  I  insist  on  his  going  on. 
It's  too  jolly,  you  know,  and  how  inimitably  he  takes 
them  off." 

The  Countess  was  inexorable.  "  No,  non,  and  no ; " 
they  would  go  to  the  library  for  black  coffee,  and, 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the  salle  a  manger  was 
abandoned. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

MAN   AND    WOMAN. 

ON  their  way  the  Countess  stopped  in  the  pretty 
salon. 

"  See,"  she  said,  "  I  have  a  new  photograph — is  it 
not  charming  ?  and,  yes,  I  believe  I  have  another  that 
you  have  not  seen." 

"  And — yes,"  said  Count  Leon,  "  that  is  the  way 
with  all  women.  Why  don't  you  speak  out  at  once. 
There  are  fifty  new  ones  that  she  is  dying  to  show 
you,"  turning  to  Miss  Leslie,  "  and  I  feel  that  there 
are  at  least  ten  new  albums  that  she  must  see.  Now 
that  we  are  on  the  subject,"  continued  the  irrepres- 
sible Leon,  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  Isaure  likes 
to  have  a  collection  of  photographs — a  small  se- 
lect collection  of  at  least  five  hundred  professional 
beauties  and  artists,  besides  minute  reflections  of 
her  friends'  faces.  An  enemy's  face,  even,  is  not 
despised,  provided  he  present  a  smiling  one  to  her. 
These  are  Vienna  albums,  and  here  are  the  Mora 
Manias."  s 

Count  Leon  evidently  appreciated  his  wife's  love 
of  photographs.  Athol  Brandon  confessed  to  the 
same  weakness,  and  Lord  Beaufort  came  to  the 


176  Marked  "In  Haste" 

ladies'  aid.  He  also  adored  them,  and  announced 
his  collection  as  a  very  choice  one.  Brandon  re- 
marked : 

"  Yes,  choice,  but  not  varied,  as  they  are  all  beau- 
ties ;  a  dozen  pictures  of  one  person  with  their  differ- 
ent poses,  a  dozen  of  another  with  equally  striking 
attitudes,  half  a  dozen —  Beaufort  protests  : 

"  You  are  traducing  me,"  said  Beaufort,  "  but  I 
confess  that  some  of  the  prettiest  are  repeated  two 
or  three  times,  and  never,  no,  never  have  I  ever  ex- 
ceeded that  triniadial  number." 

"  It  reminds  me,"  said  Miss  Leslie,  laughing,  "  of 
our  shocking  game  of  poker.  Three  of  a  kind  is  not 
at  all  a  bad  hand,  but  I  suppose  one  ought  not  to  ob- 
ject to  four,  if  one  can  get  them." 

"  In  your  case,"  said  Beaufort,  "  it  would  be  im- 
possible. You  are  the  only  one  of  the  kind  I  ever 
saw  ;  but  believe  me,  you  will  always  play  a  winning 
game,  no  matter  what  the  opposition  hand." 

She  looked  at  him  :  "  Do  you  think  me,  then,  so 
clever  ? "  with  a  half  laugh. 

"  Both  clever  and  lucky,"  he  responded,  "  but  bet- 
ter than  all  that,  beauty- — 

She  stopped  him.  "  Is  it  then  so  much  to  be  beau- 
tiful, my  Lord?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  first  law  of  nature  ;  then,  if  one  be 
lucky " 

"  Do  not  say  that,"  she  interrupted,  "  I  am  any- 
thing but  that." 

"You  are  lucky  at  the  outset,"  he  answered,  "in 
having  so  perfect  an  exterior  that  one  should  never 
care  to  go  beyond  it" 


Marked  "/«  Haste"  177 

"Then,"  said  she,  half  ironically,  "you  care  only 
for  external  beauty." 

"  I  am  not  saying,"  he  answered,  sharply,  "  what  / 
care  for  ;  I  am  only  speaking  in  a  general  sense  ; 
but  if  you  should  wish  to  know,  yes,  I  acknowledge 
it,  I  should  hate  a  woman  to  be  a  blue-stocking,  and 
professional  wits  of  your  sex  I  hold  in  abhorrence. 
It  may  be  a  dreadful  thing  to  say,  but  I  should  never 
ask  too  much  of  any  woman.  If  she  only  look  hand- 
some I  will  forgive  her  a  multitude  of  sins,  as  I  sup- 
pose " — desperately — "  one  would  have  to.  Then, 
too,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  never  to  be  attracted 
toward  any  one  for  her  moral  or  mental  worth  only, 
I  think  one  should  be  satisfied  with  physical  beauty 
and  a  reasonable  amount  of  the  other  qualities.  Were 
one  to  love  combined  mental,  physical,  and  moral 
loveliness,  the  loss  of  it  in  after  life  Vould  be  too  ter- 
rible. 

"  Such  a  shock  none  but  the  strongest  can  over- 
come, and  I  am  anything  but  strong.  Why  shock 
myself  unnecessarily  ?  But,"  laughing  shortly,  "  I 
presume  there  is  little  danger  of  one  ever  coming 
in  contact  with  such  a  rara  avis.  It  is  a  terrible  thing 
to  love  any  one  for  her  intelligence,  one  gets  deeper 
in  as  the  years  go  on.  Personal  beauty  may  fade, 
but  rarely  does  the  beauty  of  the  mind  grow  less 
with  advancing  years  ;  whereas  one  may  adore  at 
the  shrine  of  beaute personnelle,  and  undoubtedly,  with 
the  flight  of  time,  if  outward  charm  has  become  less, 
association  will  have  begotten  some  honest  feeling, 
and  habit,  which  they  say  is  stronger  than  love,  will 
already  have  secured  its  sinecure  in  personal  affec- 
8* 


1/8  Marked  "In  Haste" 

tion.  I  am  afraid,"  speaking  a  little  uneasily,  "that 
you  find  my  views  rather  ultra.  I  once  insisted  that 
the  object  of  my  passion  should  possess  every  de- 
sirable mental,  physical,  and  moral  attribute.  I  now 
withdraw  so  much  pretention.  Provided  I  could  be 
happy  with  a  beautiful  woman,  did  I  but  love  her 
wholly,  devotedly,  and  madly,  what  more  should  I 
ask  ?  " 

"I  am  not  surprised,"  she  responded,  slowly,  "at 
any  sentiment  a  man  of  the  world  would  utter, 
but  am  primitive  enough  to  have  imagined  that 
love  exacted  much  more  from  the  object  of  its  ado- 
ration. I  see,  that  women  only  take  love  au  sfrieux  ; 
woman  only  has  the  hardiesse  to  look  for  mental  and 
moral  worth  in  the  object  of  her  affection  ;  to  like  a 
few  personal  charms,  perhaps,  but  never  to  stake 
her  all  upon  them." 

"  You  are  right  also,"  he  answered,  hastily,  "  but 
the  cases  are  not  at  all  parallel.  Men  are  rarely 
beautiful  in  person ;  and  those  qualities  that  are  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  our  sex  are  those  which  show 
least,  because  we  are  men,  and  they  are  expected  of 
us.  Man  being  the  natural  protector  of  woman, 
was  born  with  a  certain  mental,  moral,  and  physical 
strength,  of  which  no  account  must  be  taken,  as 
merely  the  accident  of  birth  does  not  redound  to 
his  merit.  Men  must  be  honest,  as  they  are  the  bul- 
warks of  the  world.  They  must  have  intellect,  to 
appreciate  and  direct  the  great  heritage  of  responsi- 
bility thrust  upon  them  ;  and  they  should  be  moral 
enough  to  live  with  law,  and  without  license." 

"  I  am  glad,"  she  said,  "  that  you  think  so  much 


Marked  "In  Haste."  179 

of  yourselves.  You  have  every  reason.  Even  the 
most  despised,  since  nature  cannot  choose  its  origin, 
the  accident  of  birth  has  undoubtedly  thus  far  been 
in  favor  of  the  male  portion  of  humanity." 

"  I  half  divine,"  said  he,  with  a  questioning  accent, 
"  that  you  do  not  believe  all  you  have  said,  and  that 
beyond  your  expressed  ideal  lurk  other  ideas  and 
other  convictions." 

She  looked  up  and  said  :  "  Dear  my  lord,  what  I 
said,  undoubtedly  I  hoped  to  be  the  case.  If  you 
must  know  my  real  opinion,  I  shall  give  it.  I  warn 
you  beforehand,  do  not  be  shocked.  I  think;  with 
yourself,"  looking  steadily  at  him,  "that  personal 
beauty  covers  a  multitude  of  sins.  Woman  should  be 
forgiven  for  everything.  You  have  striven  to  show 
me  that  nature  has  favored  your  sex  in  the  great- 
est of  all  things,  that  which  no  earthly  power  can 
bestow.  I  will  now  tell  you  that  with  woman  it  is 
the  reverse.  Being  made  of  one  of  Adam's  worth- 
less ribs,  her  origin  must  necessarily  have  been  defec- 
tive. Woman  comes  into  the  world  so  handicapped 
with  original  sin  that,  in  after  life,  whatever  she 
does  should  not  be  of  moment.  Her  very  vices  be- 
come virtues  when  compared  with  the  legacy  of  mis- 
ery and  meanness  generously  bestowed  upon  her  by 
mother  nature  at  the  outset.  I  unhesitatingly  for- 
give the  frailty  of  my  sex,  for  in  that  lies  their 
strength.  Women  are,  and  from  the  first,  what — 
what  men  make  them." 

"So,"  thought  the  Earl  to  himself,"  she  does  not 
hesitate  to  acknowledge  her  guilt.  Oh,  the  shame 
of  loving  so  much  shamelessness."  Aloud,  he  said  : 


i8o  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  Your  sentiments  savor  of  honesty,  and  like  your- 
self, nothing  that  a  woman  of  the  world  could  say 
would  surprise  me.  You  have  evidently  thought 
deeply  upon  the  subject  to  speak  so  positively." 

"On  the  contrary,  I  haven't  thought  about  it  at 
all.  The  conviction  came  to  me  one  day,  and,  hav- 
ing no  opinion,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  welcome 
the  new  comer.  Then,  too,"  with  sincerity,  "  I — I 
believe  what  I  say." 

He  added  :  "  I  believe  that  you  believe  what  you 
say,  and  as  I  adore  frankness,  you  must  permit  me 
to  adore  you.  You  have  certainly  been  frank." 

When  this  conversation  commenced,  they  were 
near  a  small  etagere  loaded  down  with  counterfeits 
of  the  fair  sex.  Countess  Isaure,  having  so  many 
other  pictures  to  show  in  every  part  of  the  room, 
had  disappeared  long  before  Miss  Leslie  and  the 
Earl  had  gotten  into  the  depths  of  their  confab. 
They  found  themselves  quite  alone,  while  from  the 
inner  room,  a  library,  came  the  sounds  of  lively 
voices.  She  started  to  go  toward  "the  direction 
whence  the  voices  came. 

He  stopped  her  :  "  You  have  not  made  me  any  an- 
swer yet,"  he  said. 

"You  may  adore  my  frankness  if  you  like,"  she 
replied,  "but  not  me.  Any  one  may  be  frank,  so 
there  will  be  no  special  obligation  on  my  part  in 
permitting — what  one  cannot  help  ;  and  the  tribute 
you  would  pay  any  other  woman  it  would  be  wrong 
to  withhold  from  me,  did  I  also  possess  the  quality 
that  commands  it." 

"  I  cannot  cope  with  your  reasoning,"  he  laugh- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  181 

ingly  answered,  "but  I  understand  one  thing:  that 
one  may  like  any  quality  you  may  possess,  but  you 
yourself  are  not  to  be  adored.  Am  I  right  ? " 

"  Perfectly,"  she  replied  ;  "  how  well  we  understand 
each  other." 

"  But,"  he  hazards,  "  suppose  I  am  interested  in 
you,  what  then  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  supposition,"  she  retorted. 

"No,  a  fact." 

"  Then,  my  lord,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  Facts  are 
indisputable,  and,  as  I  never  confine  myself  to  facts, 
I  cannot  dispute  them." 

"  You  are  incorrigible,"  he  answered  ;  "  but  we  are 
just  where  we  were  ;  that  is  to  say,  /am  just  where 
I  was." 

"  Let  us  hope,"  she  said,  "  that  your  stability  may 
also  be  as  fixed,  and  that  years  hence  you  will  be 
just  where  you  are  now." 

"  Is  that  your  wish  ?  "  he  said,  curtly. 

"  My  wish  ?  "  innocently,  "  those  were  my  words  ; 
you — you  know  you  adore  frankness,  I  surely  was 
not  too  plain  ? "  . 

"You  were  not  plain,"  he  said,  "but  positively 
ugly.  I  did  not  know  beauty  could  so  transform  it- 
self. I " 

"  My  dear  friends,"  and  Countess  Isaure  put  her 
head  through  the  library  door,  "why  do  you  not 
come  ?  Coffee  is  waiting,  and  almost  cold.  Besides, 
I  have  other  photographs  to  show  you." 

"We  are  coming,  dear,"  said  Miss  Leslie,  and  they 
went  immediately  to  the  library. 

Count   Leon  was  showing  Brandon   some  bric-a- 


1 82  Marked  "In  Haste" 

brae,  some  letters  of  the  little  Prince  Imperial  (he 
was  an  ardent  Bonapartist),  and  some  magnificently 
carved  frames  which  held  fine  portraits  of  the  Im- 
perial family.  The  library,  like  every  other  room  in 
the  house,  was  homelike  and  charming.  A  portrait 
of  the  Count  attracted  much  attention.  Mademoiselle 
Leslie  asked  who  made  it,  and  Lord  Beaufort  an- 
swered ;  "  I  know  from  looking  at  it  that  it  was  done 
by  the  Count  Andre,  Leon's  father,  who  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  portraitists  of  the  day." 

Then  ensued  a  discussion  on  artists  and  the  differ- 
ence in  the  various  painters  at  that  time  celebrated 
in  Paris." 

In  an  old-fashioned  street  in  the  Quartier  Pare 
Monceau,  stands  a  superb  private  house,  surrounded 
by  a  garden,  rare  to  find  in  the  heart  of  a  great  city. 
A  high  wall  encloses  the  grounds,  and  in  the  centre 
a  magnificent  arch,  with  a  coronet  cut  in  stone,  indi- 
cates the  dwelling  of  persons  of  distinction.  The 
house  is  a  grand  model  of  Italian  renaissance  archi- 
tecture, the  massive  squares  of  stone  forming  a 
structure  of  simple  yet  solid  beauty.  Tall  trees  are 
in  the  garden,  and  in  summer  time  the  hedges  and 
walks  are  rich  with  flowering  vines  and  verdure. 
Ivy  grows  about  the  ancient  boughs,  birds  build 
their  nests  and  sing  all  day  in  the  summer  sunshine. 
The  sound  of  falling  water  is  heard  from  the  Gothic 
fountain,  and  strange  faces  laugh  at  the  leaping 
waters  from  out  masks  of  maid  or  monster.  At  the 
end  is  another  alloggia,  which  is  the  studio.  Within 
courtiers  in  broidered,  bejewelled  robes  of  state, 
smile  down  from  the  canvas.  Those  who  rejoiced 


Marked  "In  Haste."  183 

in  the  world  and  its  good  things,  live  in  life-like  atti- 
tudes when  their  eyes  have  been  closed  by  the  great 
narcotic,  Death.  The  frame  that  holds  the  pictures 
closes,  and  in  the  panels  are  heaped  piles  of  goodly 
things.  Luscious  grapes,  ripe  oranges,  the  fruit  of 
the  kitchen  garden,  and  the  more  substantial  viands, 
lie  heavily  on  a  groaning  table.  We  understand  the 
portrait's  well-being  and  his  regret  at  leaving  that 
which  he  loved  best  in  life.  A  curious  picture  is  a 
Hollander  who  married  four  wives.  He  forms  the 
centre  of  the  group,  and  in  the  four  corners  are.  the 
chosen  ones.  The  last,  who  outlived  him,  has  her 
beautiful  eyes  dimmed  with  tears.  They  are  so  real 
that  the  canvas  is  wet.  Leaving  the  treasures  of  the 
studio,  one  visits  the  house.  Here  in  one  room  are 
some  rare  Japanese  vases  bought  at  Milan,  part  of  the 
wonderful  set  whose  fame  is  world-wide.  They  are 
marvellous,  magnificent,  and  Count  Andre,  who  is, 
besides  being  a  wonderful  painter,  one  of  the  great- 
est collectioners  of  the  day,  knew  how  to  appre- 
ciate them.  The  salle-a-manger  contains  the  greatest 
number  of  Franz  Hals  owned  by  any  private  indi- 
vidual. They  look  at  one  from  their  stately  panels 
with  most  inquisitive  and  life-like  eyes.  Some  have 
hats,  some  are  without ;  some  have  ruffs,  and  others 
are>  a  mass  of  dark  color  against  a  still  more  sombre 
background.  Oh,  the  wondrous  art  of  painting  !  Oh, 
this  living  with  the  dead  who  are  yet  alive  ;  this  be- 
ing in  a  peopled  room  where  everything  demised  stirs 
with  life  as  much  as  does  one's  self  ! 

Fancy   what   a   time  they  have  when   the  world 
sleeps  and  their  counterfeit,  man,  has  drained  the  last 


1 84  Marked  "In  Haste." 

health  at  the  feast  ?  I  can  imagine  how  they  stir  in 
their  frames,  how  one  nods  to  the  other,  how  they 
talk  over  the  events  of  the  day,  and  how  finally  they 
all  descend  from  their  panels  living,  breathing  crea- 
tures, and  together  join  in  the  measured  minuet. 
The  table  is  spread  anew.  Hebe  fills  each  glass 
with  her  incomparable  nectar,  flowers  bloom  in  the 
faded  tapestry,  children  gambol  on  the  velvet  sward, 
and  the  revel  begins.  Stately  dames  and  gartered 
knights  hold  courtly  converse  ;  youths  tell  to  maid- 
ens the  old  story  ;  heads  silvered  by  time  nod  to 
other  heads  whose  ebon  hue  already  borrows  the 
snow  from  the  mountain  of  eternity.  The  b'anquet- 
ting  hall  is  filled  with  these  revived  creatures  of  the 
past,  and  the  night  wears  on.  No  mystic  hand  ap- 
pears on  the  disembowelled  wall,  no  Mede  or  Persian 
comes  with  retributive  fires  to  blast  so  much  hap- 
piness. The  knights  and  dames  dance  their  last 
dance.  The  jewels  of  their  stomachers  fade  into  a 
dim  light.  The  bright  eyes  wear  the  shimmer  of  a 
distant  lake,  the  stiff  ruffs  soften  down  to  their  old 
softness,  the  astral  burns  a  quenched  fire,  there  is  a 
hurrying  scurrying  sound,  and  into  each  panel  slips 
the  hero  of  many  a  midnight  revel.  Morning  comes 
and  sees  them  all  smiling  down  from  the  canvas. 
The  immobile  mouths  tell  no  tale  of  the  night,  the 
hypocritical  eyes  look  one  in  the  face  with  the  most 
innocent  of  regards,  the  classical  heads  are  immova- 
ble upon  their  shoulders,  and  all  knowledge  of  the 
past  night's  revelry  is  politely  ignored. 

And  this  in  the  house  of  Count  and  Countess  Andre, 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  modern  times. 


Marked  "In  Haste."  185 

Lord  Beaufort,  who  had  often  visited  them,  told 
Miss  Leslie  of  their  charming  home.  Count  Leon 
tried  in  vain  to  check  the  Earl's  enthusiasm,  but  it 
finished  by  Mademoiselle  earnestly  requesting  Isaure 
to  take  her  to  the  house.  She  promised,  of  course, 
although  modestly  disclaiming  that  it  differed  vastly 
from  any  other.  They  had  their  coffee,  the  gentle- 
men smoked  while  the  Countess  withdrew  a  moment 
in  answer  to  a  call.  Brandon  went  deep  into  an  ex- 
amination of  some  very  ancient  arms  that  Count 
Vandalin  had ;  there  were  many  swords  of  mar- 
vellous lames,  and  hilts  whose  jewels  would  not  have 
shamed  a  fine  lady's  eyes.  There  werfe  complete  sets 
of  armor,  masks,  and  the  usual  paraphernalia  of 
poignards,  sabres,  stilettos,  pistols,  etc.,  etc.  The 
Count  was  reasonably  proud  of  his  collection,  and 
principally  as  they  were  all  weapons  that  had  been 
handed  down  from  father  to  son  for  centuries,  and 
bore  the  stains  of  real  antiquity. 

While  they  were  away  looking  at  them,  Beaufort 
and  Miss  Leslie  found  themselves  alone.  He  spoke: 

"  Why  did  you  not  see  me  the  other  day  when  I 
called  ?  You  were  at  home." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  hesitatingly,  "but — but  I  was  par- 
ticularly engaged." 

He  bit  his  lip.  "  And  if  I  call  again,  would  I  be 
more  fortunate  ?  " 

"That  depends,"  she  said,  "upon  -when  you  call." 

"  May  I  come  to-morrow  ?  " 

"No." 

"  May  I  come  to-morrow — evening? " 

"  No,"  she  said  again. 


1 86  Marked  "In  Haste" 

r   "May  I  come  the  next  day?" 

She  thought  and  answered,  "  No." 

He  looks  at  her  with  the  most  unmoved  calm,  and 
said: 

"  May  I  come  the  next  day?  " 

"  You  are  so  persistent,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh,  "  I 
suppose  that  I  must  say  yes,  and  I  will  make  a  posi- 
tive engagement  for  Monday.  You  must  come  to 
tea,  and  fetch  Mr.  Brandon.  Do  you  know,"  look- 
ing at  him  suddenly,  "  that  I  like  your  cousin  very 
much  ? " 

"  Yes,"  he  responded,  carelessly,  "  he's  not  at  all  a 
bad  sort.  I  am  glad  you  like  him,  but,"  with  half- 
awakened  jealous}-,  "  I  hope  you  do  not  prefer  him 
to  me  ? " 

"  What  would  you  think  were  I  to  say  yes  ?  "  she 
answered,  without  looking  up. 

"  I  should  say,"  he  replied,  with  ill-concealed 
emotion,  "  that — that  it  cannot  be  possible.  You  are 
jesting.  You  are  saying  this  to  try  me." 

"  What  is  there  impossible  in  one's  preferringyour 
kinsman  to  you  ? "  she  demanded,  calmly. 

He  seemed  ashamed  of  his  outbreak,  and  answered, 
humbly  : 

"You  are  right.  There  is  nothing  impossible  in 
it;  on  the  contrary,  any  one  must  prefer  him.  Dear, 
serious  old  Athol ;  but  I  don't  mind  what  any  one 
thinks  but  you.  In  fact,  the*  whole  world  might 
worship  him  for  aught  I  care  ;  but  I  could  not  en- 
dure your  preferring  him  to  me.  I  hope,  I  do 
hope,"  anxiously,  "that  you  don't  speak  in  earnest." 

She  hesitated,  but  answered: 


Marked  "In  Haste"  187 

"  I — I  am  not  quite  sure." 

"  This  is  ridiculous  ! "  he  said,  angrily  ;  "  but  you 
must  be  jesting.  I  refuse  to  believe  what  you  say. 
In  fact,  I  refuse  to  give  credence  to  anything.  You 
said  some  dreadful  things  an  hour  ago  about  women, 
but  I  know  you  don't  believe  them  yourself.  Why 
do  you  wish  to  try  me  ?  Why  do  you  wish  to  place 
yourself  in  a  false  light  in  my  eyes  ?  Why " 

She  looked  up  haughtily. 

"  I  presume,  my  lord,  that  I  am  at  liberty  to  say, 
do,  and  like  what  and  whom  I  choose.  I  may  jest 
at  times,  but  I  certainly  mean  and  have  meant  all 
that  I  have  said  to-day." 

"Then,"  he  said,  rising,  "you  prefer  anyone  to 
me  ?" 

"  I  did  not  say  so." 

"Well,  you  acknowledge  that  you  said  you  pre- 
ferred my  cousin  ? " 

"  I,"  as  she  raised  her  eyes,  "  I  acknowledge  that 
I  said  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  remember  that  I  did 
say  that  I  was  not  sure." 

He  brightened. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  am  an  idiot,  but  I 
feared  you  might  be  telling  the  truth." 

She  tried  to  open  her  lips,  he  stopped  her  :  "  No, 
say  nothing !  give  me  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  I 
may  fear  anything,  but  until  I  know  to  the  con- 
trary I  may  hope— that  you  like  me- at  least  as  well 
as  another." 

Brandon  came  into  the  room,  followed  by  the 
Count.  "  I  should  think  one  would  have  to  use  un- 
common caution,"  he  said,  still  talking  of  the  arms. 


1 88  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  I  should  not  care  to  scratch  myself  with  that  vi- 
cious little  tooth-pick." 

"  Rather  not,"  said  the  Count,  following  at  his 
heels.  "  There's  enough  poison  in  the  blade  to  dis- 
pose of  a  whole  family." 

Madame  Vandalin  came  into  the  room.  " Mille par- 
dons!" she  said,  "but  my  dressmaker  had  just  sent 
me  a  second  corsage  to  my  lemon  brocade.  I  had 
to  try  it  on.  You  know  one  is  really  at  the  mercy 
of  Paris  couturiers,  and  one  has  to  try  a  thing  when 
one  can  get  it.  Then,  too,  I  am  presste  for  this  dress. 
I  wish " 

"She  wants,"  said  the  Count,  with  delightful  can- 
dor, "to  sit  for  her  photograph  to-morrow,  if  the 
day  be  but  favorable.  Am  I  not  right,  dear  wife  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  be  so  silly  ?  "  she  answered.  "  Why 
did  you  not  let  me  explain  myself  ?  I  really  want  it 
for  some  imperials  that  you  have  been  at  me  six 
months  to  get  taken  ;  but  if  you  are  going  to  laugh 
so  about  it,  why,  I  shall  refuse  to  sit."  He  apolo- 
gized. He  begged  her  to  reconsider. 

"  To  show  you  that  I  am  only  jesting,  I  shall  pose 
with  you  myself." 

This  restored  harmony.  I  had  forgotten  to  men- 
tion that  the  Count  had  an  equal  fondness  with  his 
wife  for  the  camera's  productions,  and  there  were  at 
least  ten  excellent  likenesses  of  himself  on  different 
tables  and  etageres  about  the  room. 

It  was  still  raining,  but  Mademoiselle's  carriage 
was  waiting.  She  embraced  her  dearest  Isaure  most 
tenderly,  and  said  adieu  to  the  Prince  de  la  Mollasse, 
who  frankly  dubbed  her  "My  Flirt."  As  she 


Marked  "In  Haste"  189 

reached  the  outer  door,  the  Countess  called  her 
back. 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  ? "  she  asked. 

" Bientot"  Mademoiselle  responded. 

"  I  will  come  a  moment  on  Monday,"  said  Isaure, 
"  and  apropos,  do  not  forget  to  give  me  the  new  pho- 
tograph of  yourself  that  was  promised  last  week." 

Miss  Leslie  was  quite  out  of  the  door  when  Isaure's 
pretty  dark  head  peeped  over  the  bannisters.  "  Don't 
forget,  dear,"  with  an  earnest  voice,  "  that  I  want  a 
decolletee  posture,  also  one  where  I  can  see  the  eyes. 
A  bientot  sans  adieu" 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

TEA    WITH    MRS.    ADRIAN. 

"  So  pleased  to  see  you,"  said  Ethel,  holding  out 
her  hand,  "  and  Mr.  Brandon,  too.  I  feared,  my 
lord,  that  you  had  forgotten  my  invitation.  You  ar-e 
late,  and  very  fashionable,  and  have  just  missed  the 
great  American  artist,  Mr.  Healy,  and  his  charming 
daughter." 

Beaufort  was  charmed  to  be  obliged  to  apologize. 
It  showed  that  she  had  thought  of  him,  if  she  noticed 
that  he  was  late. 

"  We  have  been  to  the  Grand  Hotel,"  he  said,  "  to 
see  a  billiard  match  between  two  capital  players. 
I  knew  time  was  flying,  but  could  not  tear  Mr. 
Brandon  away.  He  is  very  ungallant." 

"  No,  indeed,"  interrupted  Brandon,  "  not  at  all. 
I  was  merely  so  absorbed  in  the  game  that  I  could 
not  realize  how  late  it  really  was.  I  now  ask  Mad- 
emoiselle's pardon.  Surely  we  are  in  the  way.  Let 
us  say  a  little  '  how  do  you  do,'  and  leave  at  once." 

"  I  cannot  admit  the  possibility  of  such  a  thing," 
she  said,  gaily.  "  You  take  me  at  my  word  too 
quickly.  It  is  not  late  to  come-;  it  is  just  the  hour, 
in  fact.  I  am  expecting  some  other  friends,  also. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  191 

It  seemed  late,  not  because  I  expected  you,  but  be- 
cause I  was  hoping  that  you  would  come  earlier." 

Brandon  bowed.  What  a  flirt  this  woman  was  ! 
Or  had  she  been  addressing  her  words  to  the  Earl  ? 
Beaufort  took  them  to  himself,  at  any  rate,  for  his 
face  showed  the  greatest  surprise  and  pleasure.  He 
went  up  to  her  quickly,  while  Brandon  turned  to 
meet  Mrs.  Adrian,  who  was  coming  forward  from 
the  boudoir. 

The  Earl  spoke.  "  Do  you  really  mean  that  you 
were  waiting  for  me  ?  Are  you  glad  that  I  have 
come  ?  It  seems  a  year  since  our  breakfast  at  the 
Count's,  a  whole  year.  I  have  been  thinking  about 
you  ever  since,  and  yesterday  I  thought  that  I  saw 
you." 

She  started  and  looked  him  in  the  face  anxiously. 
"  You  thought  you  saw  me? "  she  stammered.  "  When, 
at  what  hour,  and — and  where  ? " 

He  saw  the  mistake  he  had  made,  but  answered 
with  perfect  nonchalance,  wishing  to  reassure  her 
without  seeming  to  have  noticed  her  emotion :  "  I 
saw  you,"  he  replied,  "-going  in  the  direction  of  the 
Bois.  You  were  very  swell  driving  with  your  aunt. 
You  were  lying  back  in  the  carriage  without  appar- 
ently seeing  anything  or  anybody.  It  was  about 
three  o'clock.  I  tried  hard  to  make  you  notice  me, 
and  half  feared  that  you  intended  the  cut  direct. 
Was  it  so  ? " 

She  was  so  much  relieved  at  what  he  had  told  her 
that  her  face  unconsciously  assumed  a  friendly  ex- 
pression. She  answered  him  with  warmth.  "  How 
would  it  be  possible  for  me  to  cut  you  when " 


192  Marked  "fa  Haste" 

"  When  what  ?  "  he  interrupted. 

"  When  I  had  met  you  at  a  friend's  house,"  she 
replied,  guardedly. 

"  Is  that  what  you  were  going  to  say  at  first  ?"  he 
asked,  persistently. 

"  No,  it  is  not  exactly  what  I  started  out  to  re- 
mark." 

"  May  I  beg  you,"  he  continued,  earnestly,  "  to  say 
exactly  what  you  at  first  intended  ?  " 

"  Do  you  insist  ?  "  nervously. 

"  I  insist." 

"Then,  if  you  insist,  I  suppose  I  must  say  it, 
although  it  is  not  worth  making  such  a  fuss  about. 
I  was  going  to  say,  '  how  could  I  cut  you  when — 
when  I  like  you  ? '  There  !  it's  out  now  ;  are  you 
satisfied  ? " 

He  gave  her  an  eloquent  look  of  thanks.  Then 
he  spoke  :  "  Could  I  believe  what  you  say,  I  would 
be  a  happy  man.  Is  it,  can  it  be  true  ? " 

She  looked  surprised,  but  answered :  "  Yes,  it  is 
true.  Why  should  one  not  like  you  ?  You  are 
amiable  "  (he  bowed),  "  good  looking "  (he  bowed 
again),  "and — and  you  are  an  earl."  He  inter- 
rupted, ironically : 

"  « An  earl ! '  oh,  yes  !  Then  I  am  to  be  liked  for 
my  title.  Thanks  !  thanks  awfully,  for  reminding 
me  that  I  have  some  claim  to  being  noticed  by  an 
American ! " 

"  American  !  ha !  ha ! "  She  laughed  an  exasper- 
ating little  cadence.  "Not  only  Americans,  but 
every  nation  adores  titles.  Is  it  possible  you  can 
treat  lightly  so  great  a  blessing  ?  Think,  only  think, 


Marked  "In  Haste"  193 

how  much  nicer  it  makes  you  in  some  people's 
eyes.  Think  of  how  all  the  world  runs  after  a  '  my 
lord ! '  " 

"  This  is  folly,"  he  said.  "  Can  you  not  be  serious 
a  moment  ?  " 

"  Serious  ?  Pray,  and  am  I  not  serious  ?  Why 
should  I  be  different  from  all  others  ?  What  the 
whole  world  does  is  unquestionably  right.  I  am  not 
here  to  reform  society." 

"  I  do  not  believe,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  stead- 
ily, that  you  care  what  any  one  does  in  the  world,  or 
that  you  care  for  what  the  world  calls  society.  I 
believe  you  are  different  from  any  other  woman,  and 
that  you  would  like  any  one  just  as  well  whether  he 
had  a  title  or  not.  Will  you  be  serious,  and  answer 
me  this  one  question  ? " 

"  I  am  so  !  Yes,  you  are  right.  It  would  never 
make  any  difference  to  me  whether  the  person  I 
loved  had  a  title  or  not,  as  I  believe  in  greater  no- 
bility than  that  of  the  accident  of  birth." 

He  looked  at  her  admiringly,  and  said  : 

"The  sentiment  does  you  honor,  if  it  be  sincere." 

"I  am  sincere,  my  lord,  in  all  things,  believe  me." 

"In  all?" 

"  In  all." 

"  Well,  if  you  be  so  sincere,  confess  that  you  know 
the  deep  impression  you  have  made  upon  me." 

She  hesitated,  but  looking  at  him  with  frank  eyes, 
responded  : 

"In  truth,  you  go  too  far.     I  do  not  know  that  I 
have  made  an  impression  upon  you,  and  the  subject 
has  been  far  from  my  thoughts." 
9 


194  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  Do  you  believe  it,  or  not  ?  Would  you  mind 
speaking  the  truth  ?  I  came " 

"  You  came  to  tea.     Will  you  have  some  ? " 

"  Yes,  when  you  have  answered  me.  Do  you  be- 
lieve it,  or  not  ?  " 

"  To  please  you,  yes.  I  believe  that  I  have  made 
some  impression  on  you.  Most  women  would  ;  why 
not  I  ?  Besides,  I  am  thirsty.  I  am  dying  for  some 
tea.  Come  ! " 

"  I  do  not  care  for  it,"  he  said,  bluntly,  "  I  care  for 
but  one  thing  in  this  world  !  Do  you  know  "  (des- 
perately) "  that  I  have  fallen  in  love  with  you  ?" 

She  looked  up,  affrightedly.  "  Pray,  my  lord,  do 
not  say  so.  How  is  it  possible  ?  You  know  me  so 
little  ! " 

"  So  little,"  he  echoed,  bitterly  ;  "  I  do  not  know 
you  at  all,  but  I  cannot  help  telling  you  that " 

"  I  must  not  listen,"  she  said,  with  dignity  ;  "  you 
take  me  by  surprise,  and  I  do  not  believe  what  you 
say.  Englishmen  are  great  flirts,  and  American  wo- 
men usually  understand  the  art  in  no  small  degree 
of  perfection.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are 
flirting ;  but  I  must  request  you  to  spare  me  if  I  do 
not  reciprocate.  Let  us  be  friends  if  you  will,  but 
do  not  waste  any  sentiment  upon  me.  I — I  am 
not  worthy  of  it.  I  do  not  care  for  it.  My  mind 
is  filled  with  many  things  ;  one  of  them  is  not  love." 

"Why,"  said  he,  looking  her  straight  in  the  face, 
"  do  you  say  you  are  not  worthy  ?  " 

"  Why  do  I  say  I  am  not  worthy  ?  "  she  echoed, 
in  amazement.  "  Why,  I  said  it  because — because  I 
forgot  myself.  On  the  contrary,  I  do  not  know  of 


Marked  "In  Haste"  195 

any  gentleman  who  is  worth  my  little  finger."  Des- 
perately, "  Do  not  let  us  quarrel.  Shall  we  have 
some  tea  ? " 

"  You  are  a  clever  woman,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  As 
cruel  as  beautiful,  and  as  strange  as  cruel."  Abrupt- 
ly, "  Do  you  dislike  me  ? " 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  unconsciously.  "No, 
no,"  she  murmured,  "  far  from  it." 

"  Then,"  he  said,  "you  like  me.  Do  you  like  me  a 
little  ?"  She  colored,  and  murmured  softly,  "Yes, 
perhaps." 

Her  words  brought  him  to  himself.  What  was  he 
doing  ?  What  saying?  He  knew  nothing,  and  cared 
less.  He  only  realized  how  madly  he  loved  her. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  declaring  this  when  she  spoke 
calmly,  coolly. 

"  But  I  like  you  quite  enough  to  take  you  on  trial 
as  a  friend.  I  am  very  capricious,  however,  and  may 
change  my  mind  at  any  moment.  Does  such  an  idea 
please  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  quickly,  "  I  am  content  with  what- 
ever you  fancy.  Do  with  me  what  you  will." 

Mrs.  Adrian  came  toward  them. 

"  It  is  disgraceful,"  she  said  to  Ethel,  "  your  keep- 
ing Lord  Beaufort  so  long  without  tea.  Come  to 
the  boudoir,  it  is  much  more  cheerful  than  here. 
Mr.  Brandon  is  already  there,  and  we  are  waiting." 

Beaufort  went  with  her  to  the  room  where  he  had 
first  seen  Miss  Leslie.  There  was  the  little  table,  or 
writing-desk  in  a  corner,  some  dainty  flowers  bloom- 
ed in  a  vase  on  the  e'tagere,  the  rich  furniture  was  un- 
changed, and  the  tapestry  that  made  a  curtain  to  the 


196  Marked  "In  Haste" 

door,  fell  in  graceful  folds  when  they  had  passed 
through  it.  His  heart  stood  still.  How  vividly  he 
recalled  everything  that  had  passed  that  eventful 
thirty-first  of  October !  even  the  slightest  thing  that 
had  occurred  since  was  as  indelibly  stamped  upon 
his  memory. 

Ethel  saw  a  paper  on  her  desk  and  hastily  went 
up  to  it.  She  seated  herself  a  moment  instinctive- 
ly, and  when  she  did  so,  the  Earl  realized  all  that 
was  between  them.  He  went  toward  her  quickly. 

"  Do  not  sit  there,"  he  said. 

"  Why  ?"  she  asked,  with  simplicity. 

"  Because — because,"  he  stammered,  "  it  makes 
you  too  far  away  from  me."  She  little  dreamed  the 
real  intent  of  his  words. 

"  How  capricious  you  are,  "she  said,  pleasantly.  "  I 
only  went  to  see  if  there  was  an  unopened  letter,  but 
I  see  there  is  none.  Let  us  draw  near  the  tea-table. 
I  think  I  am  an  angel  of  good  temper  to  go  without 
so  long,  and  all  to  please  you." 

Mrs.  Adrian  had  the  little  cups  all  ready.  Athol 
Brandon  came  forward  to  hand  one  to  Miss  Leslie. 
She  took  it,  and  remarked  that  she  was  quite  Eng- 
lish in  her  liking  for  tea. 

"  It  is  an  agreeable  hour  of  our  lives,"  she  said, 
"when  five  o'clock  comes,  or  after  dinner,  when 
aunt  and  I  sit  alone  in  the  library.  We  drink  quarts 
of  our  favorite  beverage.  I  build  castles  in  the  air, 
and  when  it  is  finished,  I  look  in  the  cup  to  tell  my 
fortune." 

The  Earl  swallowed  his  in  gulps.  "  Here,  "  said 
he,  distractedly,  "  look  in  mine  and  tell  me  what 


Marked  "In  Haste."  197 

you  see  there  ?"  He  handed  her  the  empty  cup. 
Mrs.  Adrian  laughed  and  Brandon  was  all  interest. 
"  I  see,"  said  Miss  Leslie,  "  disappointment,  a  long 
road,  wealth  and  bitterness,  and  in  the  end " 

"  What  in  the  end  ?"  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"In  the  end,"  she  repeated,  "after  a  long  time, 
comes  the  dearest  wish  of  your  heart,  with  triumph 
complete."  He  looked  delighted,  then  asked,  du- 
biously :  "  Will  it  be  very  long  ?" 

"Very  long,"  she  answered,  "very  long,  and  you 
cross  deep  water;  but  keep  good  courage,  your  fi- 
nal days  are  filled  with  joy,  and  everything  is  charm- 
ing; only  do  not  lose  patience." 

Brandon  said:  "  How  can  he  thank  you  enough 
for  so  lively  a  fortune  ?  You  speak  with  such  con- 
viction, that  one  might  think  you  a  prophet.  I  shall 
not  trouble  you  to  tell  mine,  as  I  am  not  a  believer 
in  that  sort  of  thing." 

She  laughed  :  "  You  might  have  spared  refusing 
before  I  offered  to  tell  it;  I  could  not  have  predicted 
anything  to  an  unbeliever.  In  most  things  that  one 
hopes  will  come  to  pass,  faith  is  the  first  requisite  to 
insure  success.  Of  course,  if  Lord  Beaufort  does  not 
believe  implicitly  all  that  I  have  told  him,  why,  ac- 
cording to  the  orthodox  soothsayer,  it  will  never 
come  to  pass." 

"  I  believe  in  you,"  he  said,  lightly,  "and  in  every- 
thing that  you  say.  The  thing  that  distresses  me, 
however,  is  waiting  so  long  for  my  final  triumph, 
and — and  the  realization  of  the  dearest  wish  of  my 
heart.  Look  again,  please  ;  can  one  not  hurry  one's 
fate  ?" 


198  Marked  "Tn  Haste." 

She  shook  her-  head  wisely  and  replied  :  "  I  dare 
not  look  again.  One  can  hurry  one's  fate,  but  it 
brings  needless  misfortune.  I  am  a  fatalist,  and 
believe  'what  is  to  be  will  be.'  Be  content  with 
your  fortune.  It  is  brighter  than  mine." 

At  that  moment  visitors  were  announced.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Squires  came  in,  with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Carlisle,  and 
before  they  were  fairly  seated,  Countess  Vandalin 
made  her  appearance.  She  brought  sunshine  with  her, 
as  usual.  Her  lovely  dark  eyes  glanced  around  and 
fell  upon  Beaufort  and  Brandon  with  a  questioning 
look.  "And  Leon,"  she  said,  "have  you  seen  him?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Earl,  "he  dropped  into  the  Grand 
Hotel  just  as  we  left.  I  suppose  the  brilliant  match 
was  the  attraction.  Is  he  coming  here  to-day  ? " 
Just  then  the  bell  rang. 

"Talk  of  an  angel,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  "and  it 
appears  ! " 

Count  Vandalin  came  forward.  He  greeted  the 
ladies  with  his  usual  heartiness,  but  turned  to  Miss 
Leslie  with  these  words,  "  Good-day,  my  dear  flirt ! 
I  have  come  on  purpose  to  say  a  petit  bonjour,  and 
drink  some  tea."  Then  he  saluted  Beaufort  and 
Brandon,  and  was  presented  by  Miss  Leslie  to  her 
dear  friends  the  Doctor  and  wife  and  the  Squires. 

Tea  was  served  directly.  Some  fruit  cake  that 
had  been  made  in  America  took  the  place  of  the  airy 
nothings  called  plaisirs,  desirs,  and  gateau  souffle  that 
accompanies  tea  in  Paris. 

"  Apropos"  said  the  Count,  "  how  are  you  all  since 
last  we  met  ?  What  a  terrible  day  last  Friday  was  ! 
and — and,  please  give  me  some  more  cake." 


Marked  "In  Haste."  199 

"  Leon,"  said  the  Countess,  "you  will  die  of  indi- 
gestion ! " 

"What  an  ignoble  death!"  he  said.  "Never! 
never!  but  I  will  have  some  cake  just  the  same." 
The  cake  was  passed,  Beaufort  laughed  and  joined 
the  Count.  "  It  reminds  me  of  England,"  he  said. 
"We  shall  none  of  us  dine  to-night,  but  one  may  as 
well  anticipate  dinner  when  there  is  such  an  excuse." 

Mr.  Squires  was  the  only  reasonable  one.  "  The 
only  thing  I  ever  anticipate  is  pleasure  when  I  go  to 
the  theatre  to  hear  great  artists,  or  when  I  come  to 
see  Miss  Leslie." 

"  I  have  something  to  propose  for  Wednesday," 
said  Mrs.  Adrian.  "  Let  us  all  breakfast  in  the 
country,  and  go  after  to  visit  some  neighboring 
chateau." 

"  Capital !  "  said  Beaufort,  and  the  Countess  agreed 
that  it  was  the  very  thing. 

"  Let  us  go  to  see  Ferrieres,"  said  Brandon,  "  I 
have  heard  so  much  of  it." 

It  was  decided  to  go  there.  The  party  was  made 
up  for  Wednesday,  only  the  doctor  and  his  wife, 
having  a  previous  engagement,  could  not  come. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  said  the  Countess.  "We  have 
two  soirees  for  to-night,  and  a  dinner.  What  a  busy 
life."  She  sighed,  but  with  pleasure. 

The  Earl  could  not  go  without  a  last  word.  "  May 
I  come  on  Friday  to  see  you,  in  the  evening  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,"  quickly,  "  we  go  to  the  Opera  to  hear 
Les  Huguenots ;  but  you  may  come  and  see  me 
there." 

"  May  I  sit  in  your  box  all  of  the  time  ?     I  adore 


'200  Marked  "In  Haste." 

that  opera.  I — I  should  like  to  be  near  you  to — to 
talk  it  over  with  you."  How  he  was  stammering. 

She  laughed.  "  You  adore  that  opera  ;  you  want 
to  talk  it  over  with  me  ;  you  want  to  sit  the  whole 
evening  in  my  box.  What  am  I  to  say  ?  Quelle " 

"Say  'yes,'"  he  pleaded,  "yes  to  everything  I 
ask— 

"  Au  revoir"  gaily,  extending  her  pretty  hand  to 
be  kissed.  "  We  meet  on  Wednesday  ;  in  the  mean- 
time, I — will  think  it  over." 


CHAPTER   XX. 

BREAKFAST    AT    LAGNY. 

"  AND  so,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  "  we  are  going  to  see 
the  famous  chateau  ?  Of  course  we  will  have  a  fine 
time,  although  it  is  late  in  the  season  to  expect  to 
see  grass  growing  by  the  hedges.  I  do  hope  the 
gardens  are  not  quite  dismantled  of  all  their  summer 
loveliness.  I  dote  upon  gardens,  and  upon  gardens 
that  are  quite  green." 

"  The  only  green  thing  at  Ferrieres  is  the  garden, 
depend  upon  it,"  said  Blakeman  ;  "  but  the  out-door 
look  is  nothing,  the  chateau  itself  is  so  beautiful." 

They  were  a  very  comfortable  party  ;  the  weather 
was  fine,  and  a  special  compartiment  of  the  ligne  du 
Nord  was  taking  them  out  of  Paris.  There  were 
Mrs.  Adrian  and  Miss  Leslie,  Madame  Hortensia,  an 
(7/^/new  friend,  the  Countess,  and  Mrs.  Squires.  Then, 
of  gentlemen,  the  party  was  most  prolific.  There 
were  Lord  Beaufort  and  Brandon,  Mr.  Gratiot  and 
Mr.  Blakeman,  Mr.  Squires  and  Count  Vandalin,  with 
Mr.  Costanza,  an  old  friend,  who  completed  the  party. 

"  Where  are  we  now  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Adrian. 

"This,  Madame,"  said  the  Count,  leaning  out  of 
the  window,  "  is  a  small  station  called  Creil." 

"  Is  it  important  ?  "  she  asked. 


202  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

"In  what  way  ? " 

"  It  is  near  Paris.     Jove,  I  thank  thee  ! " 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  and  silence 
followed. 

"I  am  inquisitive,"  said  Miss  Leslie  ;  "who  can 
tell  me  all  about  Ferrieres  ?  I  am  most  anxious  to 
learn  something." 

"  I  am  happy,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Mr.  Blakeman, 
"  to  be  able  to  tell  you  much  of  the  place.  Will  you 
hear  it  now,  or  later  ?  " 

"  Now,"  said  Miss  Leslie  ;  and  "  now,"  "  now,"  was 
repeated  by  everybody. 

He  began  :  Chateau  Ferrieres  was  bought  from 
the  heirs  of  the  Due  d'Otrante,  and  was  remodelled 
by  Baron  James  de  Rothschild  many  years  ago.  It 
is  about  two  hours  from  Paris,  and  after  we  reach 
Lagny-sur-Marne " 

"  What's  that  ?  "  interrupted  Mrs.  Squires. 

"  A  small  village,  madame,"  interposed  the  speaker. 
"  Lagny  is  the  village,  and  Marne  is  the  muddy,  but 
very  useful  river  upon  which  it  is  located.  But  to 
proceed.  The  chateau " 

"Whom  does  it  belong  to  now  ?"  asked  Ethel. 

"  To  the  Rothschilds,"  Mr.  Gratiot  answered. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  artist,  with  dignity, 
"  but  who  is  telling  this  story  I  commenced  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  "but  don't  tell  anything 
about  it  ;  don't  say  another  word.  Let  each  one  find 
out  for  himself.  Where  do  we  breakfast  ?  " 

"At  Lagny,"  said  Mr.  Squires,  promptly.  "  I  have 
an  araire,  should  you  wish  to  see  it." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  203 

"Thanks,"  responded  Mrs.  Adrian.  "The  only 
good  I  ever  found  them  was  to  light  the  fire  with 
when  the  darkies  had  had  too  much  camp-meeting. 
Tracts,  almanacs,  and  railway  time-tables  are  best 
out  of  print.  When  do  we  get  to  Lagny  ? "  she  re- 
iterated. 

"  In  ten  minutes,"  said  the  Count ;  "it  is  a  charm- 
ing place." 

"  I  will  get  a  photograph  of  it,"  said  the  Countess. 

"  Let  us  hope,"  said  Ethel,  "  that  when  you  will 
see  it  in  after  life  you  will  know  what  it  represents. 

My  friend,  Katie  P ,  after  travelling  all  over  Italy, 

Germany,  and  Austria,  said  she  would  show  me  the 
souvenir  pictures  that  she  had  bought  of  each  place 
that  she  liked.  In  looking  over  the  collection,  I  re- 
marked a  lovely  interior,  with  a  view  of  gardens  in 
the  back.  It  was  familiar,  and  yet  not  familiar. 
Where  had  I  seen  it  ?  Katie  looked  at  the  picture 
and  smiled  triumphantly.  '  Beautiful,  isn't  it  ?'  she 
said.  It  particularly  struck  my  eye.  '  What  house, 
and  where  is  it  ? '  I  asked.  '  Oh,'  glibly,  '  I'll  tell  you 
directly.  This — ahem,'  a  long  look.  '  This  is,  ah, 
ahem  ! '  another,  a  longer  look.  '  Of  course,  I  am 
coming  to  it  directly,  but  the  name,  those  barbarous 
Italian  names.'  '  It  is  in  Italy  ? '  I  hazard.  '  I  should 
think  so,'  she  answers,  scornfully,  '  but  this  place, — 

it  doesn't  slip  my  mind,  but '  A  joyous  thought 

takes  possession  of  her.  She  looks  at  the  bottom  of 
the  photograph,  she  looks  at  its  face  ;  she  looks  at  it 
reversed.  Again  she  scans  it,  and  an  angry  light 
begins  to  glow  in  her  eyes.  She  turns  the  picture. 
Oh,  horror  !  Her  feelings  could  no  longer  be  con- 


2O4  Marked  "In  Haste" 

trolled.  '  There,'  said  she,  '  look  how  I  have  been 
swindled.  These  are  all  souvenirs,  and  that  fool  of 
a  photographer  has  forgotten  to  write  the  name  of 
the  place  on  the  back  of  the  picture."1 

Everybody  roared. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Blakeman,  "  that  no  one  would 
forget  Lagny  who  had  once  seen  it." 

"  No,"  she  interrupted,  "  had  they  really  seen  it ; 
but  my  young  lady  acquaintance  had  not  seen  any  of 
the  places  she  had  bought  the  photographs  of.  Like 
most  Americans  making  a  summer  trip,  each  time 
the  train  stopped  for  coal  or  to  take  on  water,  she 
bought  a  collection  of  the  chief  objects  of  interest 
in  the  town,  and  declared  that  each  photograph  was 
a  personal  souvenir.  I  once  knew  a  lady  that  re- 
turned to  Paris  after  a  trip.  When  asked  if  she  had 
seen  Rome,  she  blushed,  but  answered  courage- 
ously, '  I  might  have  seen  it,  but  we  passed  it  in  the 
night.  I  have  since  regretted  our  precipitation,  but 
I  distinctly  remember  one  of  the  seven  hills.'  " 

"  Hills  !  "  said  the  count,  "  what  Hills  are  they  ? 
I  knew  a  family 

"  Fie,  Count,"  said  Miss  Leslie ;  "  you  know  I  am 
only  telling  you  what  somebody  said  about  having 
seen  Rome." 

"  Not  to  interrupt,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian,  "  but  is  this 
Lagny  ?  "  They  were  approaching  a  village,  as  the 
whistle  that  moment  announced.  Sure  enough,  it 
was  Lagny.  They  descended  and  made  their  way 
from  the  station  to  a  quaint  little  restaurant  embow- 
ered in  trees,  and  adjoining  the  banks  of  the  river. 
There  was  some  parley  about  its  being  good  enough 


Marked  "In  Haste"  205 

to  furnish  them  much  of  a  breakfast,  but  all  decided 
upon  trusting  to  luck. 

The  proprietor  himself  came  forward  with  a  smil- 
ing face,  and  the  weighty  question  of  what  could  be 
given  them  to  eat  was  soon  broached.  Mr.  Squires 
was  spokesman. 

He  commenced.  "  I  remember  when  I  was  in 
Australia " 

"  What,"  said  his  wife,  "  has  that  got  to  do  with 
the  subject  ?" 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  let  me  continue.  When  I 
was  in  Australia,  I  saw  just  such  a  river  as  this " 

The  proprietor  of  the  inn  here  interfered.  "  Mon- 
sieur must  be  jesting.  In  all  the  world,  there  is 
only  one  Marne.  This  river  is  celebrated  for  its 
fish.  There  are " 

"  That's  just  what  I  was  getting  at  :  that  in  a 
river  like  the  one  I  saw  in — well,  in  a  river  like  this, 
that  one  must  be  able  to  get  delicious  trout.  We 
will  have  some  for  the  first  course.  How  does  that 
suit  ? "  making  a  general  appeal  to  the  company. 

"  Excellent  !  capital  !  "  they  all  said  ;  then  the 
proprietor  spoke  again. 

"  Fish  ?  fish  ? "  with  a  grin. 

"  Yes,  fish,"  said  the  gentleman  ;  "  what  is  the 
matter  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  man,  coolly,  "  except  that  we 
never  have  any  fresh  fish  at  Lagny.  They  are  all 
sold  to  the  city,  and  the  nearest  we  can  come  to  it 
would  be  some  salted  .herrings  that  we  import  from 
England." 

Mr.  Squires  groaned.     "  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he 


206  Marked  "In  Haste" 

added,  indignantly,  "that  one  can  never  get  fresh  fish 
with  a  river  like  this  in  the  town  ?  " 

The  man  simply  nodded.     He  had  told  the  truth. 

Some  chickens  were  sporting  under  the  trees  in 
the  kitchen  garden.  Mr.  Squires  breathed  more 
freely,  and  said  :  "  I  suppose  we  must  resign  our- 
selves to  do  without  fish,  but  we  will  have  some 
new-laid  eggs,  and  after,  some  broiled  chicken." 

The  proprietor  bowed  grimly,  and  said :  "  There 
are  no  fresh  eggs  ;  they  were  all  sold  this  morning  ; 
and  the  last  chicken  was  sent  to  Monsieur  le  curt. 
He  is  ill." 

"In  Heaven's  name!"  said  Mr.  Squires,  "what 
have  you  got  to  eat  ?  A  fine  river,  and  no  fish  ; 
coops  of  hens,  and  no  eggs  ;  chickens,  but  none  to 
cook  !  How  does  one  live  in  this  town,  anyway  ?" 

The  man  put  on  some  dignity :  "  Monsieur  for- 
gets," he  said,  icily,  "that  we  live  here  by  selling  the 
products  of  the  village,  not  eating  them.  The  daily 
commerce  may  not  be  interfered  with  by  strangers. 
One  can  get  things  fresh  at  early  morning,  and  late 
at  night,  but  never  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  The 
best  is  sold,  and  one  eats  the  rest." 

A  vague  light  began  to  dawn  upon  the  company. 
Who  was  this  man,  who  seemed  the  proprietor,  yet 
who  spoke  with  the  language  of  a  magistrate,  or  a 
village  beadle  ?  To  whom  had  they  been  talking  ? 
Was  there  some  mistake  ?  Mr.  Squires  continued: 

"  Do  you  know — 

"  Monsieur  must  excuse  me,"  said  the  man,  "  I  do  not 
know  ;  I  am  a  stranger  here  myself.  Perhaps — per- 
haps— "  politely,  "Monsieur  had  better  see  the  chef." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  207 

Mr.  Squires  turned  pale.  Who,  who,  in  God's 
name,  was  this  man  ?  The  Count  stepped  forward, 
scarcely  able  to  keep  his  countenance,  and  managed 
to  say  : 

"  Monsieur  is  not  the  keeper  of  the  inn  ? " 

"  Yes,"  the  man  answered,  with  a  surprised  look. 

"  And  you  know  nothing  about  what  you  have  to 
eat — you  say  you  are  a  stranger  here  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  man,  with  dignity.  "  "Tis 
true  I  am  the  proprietor ;  I  bought  this  restaurant 
yesterday.  It  is  also  true  that  I  am  a  stranger  here  ; 
I  only  arrived  this  morning.  I — in  fact,  Monsieur 
may  not  have  noticed,  but  I  came  in  the  same  train 
with  him  from  Paris.  I  can  speak  with  certainty 
about  the  place,  as  I  know  the  habits  of  the  town 
and  the  river.  There  is  no  river  like  the  Marne. 
Where  would  one  find  such  a  river  ? "  with  increased 
dignity. 

"  It  would  be  hard,"  said  the  Count,  "  to  find  a 
river  anywhere  that  had  no  fish,  to  find  hens  who 
lay  no  fresh  eggs,  and  chickens  fit  only  to  pick  in 
the  grass.  However,  thanks  for  your  information  ; 
but  can  we  see  any  one  who  could  get  us  some 
breakfast  ? " 

The  proprietor  touched  a  bell.  A  slender  Alsacian 
made  his  appearance. 

"Breakfast,"  said  the  new  inn-keeper,  with  dig- 
nity, "  Breakfast  for  everybody  in — a  propos,  would 
Monsieur  like  to  sit  out  under  the  trees,  or  would 
he  prefer  the  salle-a-manger  ?  " 

"-In  the  garden,  by  all  means,"  said  the  ladies, 
and  they  passed  through  the  quaint  little  house  to 


208  Marked  "In  Haste," 

the  back,  where  some  fine  trees  wore  still  their  sum- 
mer dress  of  green.  There  were  gravelled  walks, 
with  grape-vines  clinging  to  trellises.  There  was  a 
hedge  and  many  late  flowers  blooming  beside  it. 
Round  tables  were  under  the  trees,  and  the  largest 
arbor  was  selected  for  the  party. 

The  day  was  fine  and  .soft,  and  the  sun  poured 
down  as  it  sometimes  does  in  autumn  weather.  The 
muddy  Marne  glided  by  to  the  left,  and  the  murmur 
of  the  waters  was  soothing  as  it  reached  the  ear. 
All  seemed  perfect  and  harmonious,  when  a  terrible 
discovery  was  made.  The  ground  was  damp,  too 
damp  to  keep  one's  feet  upon  ;  but  rugs  were  pro- 
vided, footstools  were  furnished,  and  the  ladies  de- 
cided to  try  sitting  out  of  doors,  at  least  for  a  time. 

What  a  breakfast  it  was,  to  be  sure  !  Nothing  was 
perfect,  but  every  one  was  in  good  humor.  Mr. 
Squires  had  scarcely  recovered  his  equilibrium  over 
his  peculiar  d/but.  All  agreed  to  accept  whatever 
was  offered  with  a  good  grace,  and  the  new  propri- 
etor's health  was  drank  in  solid  bumpers  of  pure  red 
wine.  There  was  some  of  that  to  be  had  at  least. 

An  omelette  with  herbs  was  the  first  thing  served  ; 
then  some  radishes  that  had  made  the  centre  bouquet 
in  yesterday's  market-place  were  introduced,  with 
some  olives  and  an  anchovy  salad,  which  was  very 
salty,  though  palatable,  for  our  travellers  were  hun- 
gry and  did  not  mind  so  trifling  a  thing  as  too  salt 
anchovies  and  radishes  whose  color  had  fled. 

Then  there  was  a  tough  bif steak,  some  fried  pota- 
toes that  looked  as  if  blown  up,  and  were  really  filled 
with  wind ;  then  came  dessert — cheese  that  could 


Marked  "In  Haste"  209 

not  keep — to  itself,  and  some  fruit  that  had  untimely 
fled  the  parent  bough  during  the  first  hurricane  that 
had  swept  through  the  village  in  early  summer. 

The  coffee  was  a  success  ;  a  little  pale,  perhaps, 
but  it  had  a  clear  conscience  and  no  chiccory. 

"  Mine,"  said  the  Count,  "  is  so  weak  that  I  must 
set  it  on  the  table. "  Then  there  was  a  general  laugh. 
Thus  chatting  gaily,  the  dejeuner  was  seasoned  with 
the  most  savory  of  all  appetizers,  good  temper  and 
cheerfulness. 

When  the  bill  was  being  settled,  the  virginal  pro- 
prietor came  forward  and  saluted  his  first  guests. 

"Let  me,"  said  he,  "offer  you,  as  a  souvenir  of 
Lagny-sur-Marne,  a  photograph  of  my  restaurant, 
V Ange  Gardien." 

Countess  Vandalin  stepped  forward  :  "Adieu, 
monsieur,"  she  said,  with  her  sweet  voice.  "  I  ac- 
cept it  with  pleasure  !  "  Then  wishing  him  prosperity, 
they  took  their  leave. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE   VISIT    TO    FERRIERES. 

CARRIAGES  were  in  waiting  to  take  them  to  Fer- 
rieres,  and  the  Earl  managed  to  sit  with  Miss  Leslie 
and  her  aunt.  After  an  hour's  drive  along  a  charm- 
ing route  they  reached  the  Chateau. 

It  was  bought  from  the  heirs  of  the  Duke  d'O- 
trante,  and  remodelled  by  Baron  James  de  Roths- 
child. Ferrieres  is  a  most  magnificent  property, 
and  even  the  restoring  of  it  by  the  Baron  has  not 
been  able  to  entirely  disguise  its  original  beauty. 
The  park  and  gardens  remain  in  all  their  old  loveli- 
ness, and  the  great  trees  form  a  perfect  forest  of 
green.  The  house  is  restored  and  modernized,  but 
its  shape  remains  as  when  first  built.  The  grounds 
are  laid  out  with  rare  taste,  and  many  trees  have  the 
branches  cut  and  covered  with  the  flowering  sweet- 
briar  rose. 

The  effect  is  beautiful.  It  seems  as  if  freshly 
culled  gigantic  bouquets  were  daily  placed  in  the 
garden.  Statues  gleam  from  behind  and  through 
the  great  oaks,  and  sounds  of  falling  water  mai-k 
the  locality  of  fountains,  where  nymphs  and  golden 
fishes  sport  in  the  marble  basins. 


Marked  "In  Haste."  211 

When  they  reached  the  great  entrance  door,  it  was 
opened  by  a  pompous  footman.  He  was  so  magnifi- 
cent that  one's  voice  died  to  a  whisper  when  trying 
to  address  him.  A  special  invitation  to  visit  the 
Chateau  ought  to  command  some  respect,  and,  in 
truth,  the  lordly  personage  felt  that  his  visitors  were 
not  to  be  despised,  although  he  could  not  come  down 
from  his  grand  pedestal  all  at  once. 

The  inmates  not  being  at  home,  the  whole  house 
could  be  seen,  and  it  really  merited  a  visit.  The 
party  went  in  after  the  fashion  of  sightseers. 

"This  will  never  do,"  said  Mr.  Gratiot.  "We  are 
quite  like  the  Cook  tourists.  Let  us  disperse." 

One  looked  at  one  thing,  and  another  at  another  ; 
but,  in  spite  of  not  wishing  to  do  the  Chateau  in  real 
voyage-fashion,  they  finished  by  all  fetching  up  to- 
gether and  following  the  imposing  footman,  who 
acted  as  guide. 

The  rarest  things  at  Ferrieres  are  the  great  paint- 
ings on  leather  by  Cordova  ;  a  room  has  been  made 
expressly  for  them,  which  is  called  "  le  salon  des 
cuirs."  Baron  James  found  them  in  Spain,  and 
bought  them  for  a  mere  song— eight  thousand  francs. 
He  had  them  restored  at  a  cost  of  one  hundred  thou- 
sand, and,  to-day,  would  not  sell  them  for  a  million 
— which  affords  a  good  idea  of  the  modest  per  cent, 
that  falls  imperceptibly  into  the  coffers  of  the  great 
financiers. 

The  footman  preceded  the  party,  and  droned  out 
a  guide-book  explanation  of  the  various  objects. 
After  examining  the  Cordova's  with  undisguised  ad- 
miration, they  turned  into  a  long  room  with  a  gal- 


212  Marked  "In  Haste." 

lery  running  around  it  at  the  top.  Various  objects, 
scattered  about  on  convenient  tables,  were  com- 
mented upon  by  the  party.  The  man  always  smiled 
frigidly,  and  explained  :  "Yes,  madame,  or  monsieur 
is  quite  right.  It  is  rich,  but  extremely  simple.  The 
Rothschilds  do  not  need  to  make  a  display  of  their 
wealth." 

He  had  said  this  when  they  looked  at  the  paint- 
ings on  leather,  he  repeated  it  each  time  that  the  eye 
fell  upon  any  object  in  the  room  ;  and  in  fact,  one 
began  unconsciously  to  wait  for  this  remark. 

In  this  room  were  some  fine  paintings.  Henriette, 
of  England,  by  Joshua  Reynolds,  a  superb  Velas- 
quez, a  Rubens,  two  Bordones,  a  Rembrandt,  Van 
Moll,  a  Tiziano,  and  others  too  numerous  to  mention 
There  was  Henriette's  writing-desk  with  fleurs  de 
lys  carved  on  the  wings,  and  with  a  flat  top.  There 
was  a  marvellous  cabinet  made  in  Rome  in  the  tenth 
century,  with  incrusted  ivory  and  inlaid  woods.  On 
a  centre-table,  beside  some  albums,  was  Madame  de 
Pompadour's  mirror. 

It  was  in  a  gilded  bronze  frame,  incrusted  with 
entire  shells  of  mother-of-pearl.  The  Earl  came 
nearer  to  look  at  it,  and  Mademoiselle  Leslie  also 
went  closer  and  turned  to  peep  at  herself  in  the  fa- 
mous glass.  Beaufort  looked  as  she  gazed. 

"  This  mirror,"  said  he,  "  is  the  only  one  I  ever 
saw  worthy  to  reflect  your  image.  Do  you  not  find 
yourself  more  beautiful  in  it  than  in  any  other  ?" 

"  I  was  thinking,"  she  said,  quickly,  "  not  of  my- 
self, but  wondering  how  many  faces  had  been  re- 
flected in  it.  Could  it  only  talk,  how  strange  the 


Marked  "In  Haste."  213 

* 

history  it  would  relate  ;  and  yet  how  fortunate  that 
these  emblems  of  the  past  are  not  speaking  ones  in 
a  certain  sense.  Narrations  of  sorrow  might  oftener 
be  related  than  tales  of  joy,  and  certainly  Madame 
de  Pompadour's  mirror  must  have  looked  out  on  a 
varied  life.  I — I  am  afraid  I  should  not  care  to  have 
it  in  the  room  with  me.  It  might  start  up  and  talk." 

"  How  odd  are  your  fancies,  and  what  a  chameleon- 
like  nature  you  have  !  Do  you  know  that  I  have 
never  seen  you  twice  the  same7  ? " 

She  laughed.  "  Why  should  a  nature  not  be 
changeable  ?  It  is  very  monotonous  being  always 
in  the  same  mood,  and,  confess  :  Do  you  not  prefer 
a  character  capable  of  transforming  itself  ?  To-day, 
gay  ;  to-morrow,  sad  ;  the  next  day  neither  one  nor 
the  other  ? " 

"  Why  do  you  not  ask  me  plainly  if  I  do  not  pre- 
fer you,  in  all  your  moods  and  tenses  ?  It  would  be 
franker  than  foisting  an  imaginary  person's  charac- 
ter on  me,  and  pretending  that  it  is  not  your  own. 
I  answer  blindly — no,  advisedly  :  I  prefer  you,  and 
all  that  appertains  to  you." 

"  All  ?  "  she  said,  gaily. 

He  started,  and  looked  into  her  fair  face.  Did  he 
like  all  that  pertained  to  her  ?  Unquestionably  not, 
but  he  had  spoken  too  hastily.  He  looked  into  her 
eyes  with  fervor — a  look  that  said  "  yes  "  to  her 
question  ;  but,  like  many  seemingly  honest  glances, 
combined  a  little  truth  and  much  deception.  How- 
ever, so  long  as  she  did  not  know,  it  was  all  right. 

"  When  we  have  done  the  Chateau,"  he  said,  "  I 
have  something  to  tell  you.  May  I  ?  " 


214  Marked  "In  Haste." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  if  it  is  something  very  nice, 
j " 

"  Ethel  !  "  her  aunt's  voice  broke  in,  "  we  must  all 
keep  together  now,  as  things  are  to  be  generally 
explained,  and  you  know  how  interesting  this  house 
is." 

The  footman  led  the  way  to  the  §tate  dining- 
room,  to  a  Louis  Seize  salon,  then  into  a  smaller 
apartment,  where  he  stopped.  His  eyes  watered, 
his  gait  was  unsteady,  and  one  immediately  was  led 
to  expect  something  out  of  the  usual  description  of 
the  house. 

"  This  room,"  said  he,  "  is  the  one  Jules  Favre 
came  to  weep  in.  He  sat  on  that  sofa — there  "  (all 
looked  at  the  sofa),  "  and  buried  his  head  in  his 
hands.  He  had  frequent  interviews  here  with  M.  de 
Bismarck.  A  propos,  of  him  I  cannot  speak  with 
much  respect,  "  c'est  un " 

"  Do  not  distress  yourself,"  said  Miss  Leslie,  kindly, 
"but  speak  your  mind.  We  are  none  of  us  Ger- 
mans." 

The  man's  face  brightened,  and  he  explained  : 

"  The  word  I  would  have  used,  one  cannot  mention 
in  France  before  ladies,  but  you  call  it " 

"  Pig,  in  English,  I  suppose,"  ejaculated  Mr. 
Squires,  very  gravely. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  very  much  relieved,  "  but  still  the 
name  doesn't  sound  quite  right." 

"  I  am  constrained,"  said  the  Count,  "  if  this  august 
company  will  excuse  me,  to  pronounce  the  real  word, 
Hog.  Ah  !  hog  the  same,  but  allowable  only  in  Eng- 
lish." 


Marked  "In  Haste."  215 

All  acquiesced,  and  a  genuine  smile  broke  over  the 
footman's  face. 

"Yes,"  lie  said,  delightedly,  "that  sounds  right 
now."  Then  he  continued  : 

"  Since  the  Baron  James  de  Rothschild's  death,  his 
rooms  have  always  been  closed.  When  the  Prus- 
sians came  to  Paris,  they  took  possession  of 
Ferrieres.  Mr.  de  Bismarck  inspected  all  of  the 
rooms  and  selected  one  for  himself.  We  explained 
that  Baron  James's  apartment  was  closed,  and  asked 
him  to  respect  it.  He  said  ;  '  I  will  see  it  first."  Of 
course,  his  chambers  were  the  richest.  As  soon  as 
Bismarck  cast  his  eye  upon  them,  he  cried  out  with 
joy  :  '  What,  leave  the  best  rooms  in  the  house  unoc- 
cupied ?  Never — me  voila.  Here  is  where  I  shall  in- 
stall myself.'  And  would  you  believe  it  ?"  continued 
the  man,  with  awful  solemnity  ;  "  the  wretched  Ger- 
man took  possession  that  moment,  and  slept  like  a 
hog  every  night  in  the  bed  where  the  poor  dear 
master  died.  This  rich  counterpane  that  you  see 
was  once  stolen  by  the  Prussians,  and  found  days 
after  in  the  woods,  miles  from  the  house,  torn  and 
ruined  as  one  sees." 

Some  epithets  not  altogether  complimentary  to 
Bismarck,  this  prince  of  successful  court  buffoons, 
then  followed.  The  footman  seemed  delighted,  and 
began  showing  some  of  the  rare  objects  that  adorned 
the  chamber.  Some  Russian  ware  of  great  value 
was  on  a  table.  He  tapped  a  vase  with  a  significant 
smile. 

"  Who  would  think,"  said  he,  "  to  find  objects  of 
such  worth  hidden  in  a  bed-chamber?  This,"  touch- 


216  Marked  "In  Haste" 

ing  one,  "  is  worth  a  hundred  thousand  francs.  It 
would  be  unnoticed,  did  I  not  point  it  out ;  but," 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  "  the  Rothschilds  never 
make  a  show  of  their  money." 

The  man  was  getting  more  lordly.  He  grew  con- 
fidential and  continued : 

"  Being  in  this  room  reminds  me  of  our  late 
master.  He  was  so  witty  !  A  friend  of  Madame  la 
Baronne  once  tried  to  tell  him  that  his  son,  Mr. 
Gustave,  was  ruining  himself.  He  said  :  '  Baron,  he 
is  fast,  he  runs  in  debt,  he  is  too  extravagant ! ' 
The  baron  replied  sharply  :  '  M.  Gustave  is  no  fool, 
he  knows  he  can  spend  what  he  likes,  for  he  has  a 
rich  father  to  pay  his  debts;  but  I  cannot,  alas  !'  sob- 
bing, '  I  am  an  orphan  ! ' ' 

All  laughed  at  the  gentleman's  wit.  "  I  could  re- 
late," said  the  footman,  "  dozens  of  similar  things, 
but  forbear." 

They  passed  into  a  smoking-room,  fumoir,  restored 
and  decorated  by  Eugene  Lami.  The  painter  was 
there  at  that  moment,  and  was  showing  some  friends 
the  room.  He  was  a  small,  white-headed  man,  French 
in  precision,  with  a  sort  of  half-ceremonious  air,  not 
at  all  unbecoming  to  a  great  artist. 

The  fumoir  is  shaped  like  a  horseshoe,  and  in 
each  panel  running  around,  is  painted  a  scene 
from  the  carnival  of  Venice.  The  work  is  life-like, 
and  beautiful  in  sentiment  and  color.  To  Mr. 
Lami  is  due  the  restoration  of  the  entire  chateau. 
Near  the  fumoir  are  some  handsome  rooms,  and 
in  each  and  every  one  the  rarest  objets  d'art  met 
the  eye  at  every  turn.  There  are  sixty  of  these 


Marked  "In  Haste"  2 1/ 

rooms  in  the  house.  Imagine  the  enormous  wealth 
represented ! 

They  ascended  to  the  second  story.  Everything 
was  spotlessly  clean,  and  Mrs.  Adrian  inquired  how 
many  servants  it  took  to  keep  the  rooms  in  such 
order.  The  footman  swelled  with  importance. 

"We  are  two,  madame,"  he  answered,  modestly. 

"  Two  for  each  room,"  hazarded  she. 

"  No,  madame,"  he  answered,  sharply  ;  "  M.  le 
Baron  Rothschild  does  not  need  to  make  a  display. 
We  are  two  for  the  entire  house,  when  the  family  is 
not  here.  There  are  besides  the  out-door  gardeners. 
I  have  an  aide.  One  young  man  attends  to  every- 
thing indoors  and  you  see  how  clean  he  keeps  it. 
He  is  very  careful.  Faithful  servants  look  upon 
their  master's  things  as  their  own." 

"  Most  servants  do,"  remarked  Miss  Leslie,  quiet- 
ly, "  but  he  is  indeed  a  model  youth.  I  should  like 
to  carry  him  off,  to  commence  the  breed  in  Amer- 
ica." 

The  footman  then  explained  that  the  house  was 
once  good  enough,  but  that  now  it  was  perfection. 
He  said  : 

"  There  are  all  modern  conveniencies,  hot  and  cold 
water,  and — and  a  bath.  I  must  show  that."  Then 
he  led  the  way  through  some  beautiful  apartments 
toward  the  salon  des  bains.  Before  they  reached  it, 
speculation  was  rife  as  to  what  it  might  be.  Visions 
of  Eugenie's  bath  at  the  Tuileries,  with  its  mirrored 
walls,  mosaic  floor,  and  silver  tub  shaped  like  a  sea- 
shell,  flashed  upon  them.  Of  course  that  was  poor 
compared  to  this.  They  would  soon  see. 


2i8  Marked  "In  Haste" 

They  reached  a  small  square  chamber,  and,  on  one 
side,  was  a  massive  door  in  carved  maple.  The  foot- 
man directed  them  toward  this  door.  It  swung  upon 
its  hinges  with  a  ponderous  movement. 

"Here,"  said  the  man,  "is  the  bath."  Curiosity 
was  so  great  that  good  manners  were  forgotten. 
Every  one  crowded  forward.  Imagine  the  surprise 
to  see  only  a  dingy  tub  in  ordinary  zinc.  The  foot- 
man explained. 

"  This  bath,  the  only  one  in  the  house,  is,  as  you 
see,  very  simple,  but  it  is  all  that  is  necessary.  There 
is  hot  and  cold  water,  and,  to  make  no  mistake, 
printed  labels  are  placed  under  each  faucet.  I  pre- 
sume," said  he,  wishing  to  appear  gallant,  "you  have 
recognized  the  fact  that  this  is  an  English  bath, 
and  I  hear  that  there  is  one  in  every  house  in  Eng- 
land and  America.  Are  they  just  like  this  ?"  appeal- 
ing to  Mrs.  Adrian. 

She  hesitated.  "  Let  me  answer,"  said  Miss  Les- 
lie. "  This  is  not  unlike  the  American  bath-room." 

"  Have  you,"  said  the  footman,  proudly,  "  printed 
labels  to  tell  which  is  hot  and  which  is  cold  water  ?" 

"Well,  no,"  she  admitted,  with  rare  frankness. 
"  The  fact  is,  we  are  so  used  to  washing  ourselves 
in  America,  that  we  know  by  habit  which  is  which  ; 
but  of  course,  under  the  circumstances,  one  is  quite 
right  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  and " 

"  And,"  he  interrupted,  "  madame  will  excuse  me, 
but  has  she  remarked  the  simplicity  of  this  tub  ? 
It  is  like  M.  le  Baron  himself,  modest,  and  quite  as 
unostentatious.  He, is  rich,  but  he  does  not  make  a 
show  of  his  money,  and  this  is  quite  in  his  style." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  219 

"  Is  it  not  a  little  too  poor  ? "  suggests  Mrs.  Squires. 
"  Just  a  little  too — well,  a  trifle  too  simple  ? " 

The  footman  straightened  himself  up  two  inches. 
"Not  at  all,  madame  ;"  then  grandly,  "why  should 
too  much  wealth  come  together  ?  This  door,"  patting 
the  superb  mass  affectionately,  "  is  worth  ten  times 
the  price  of  the  tub,  and  it  is  placed  here  for  the  en- 
trance to  a  bath  ;  but  M.  de  Rothschild  never  makes 
a  display  of  his  riches,  and  no  one  would  suspect 
from  this  grand  exterior  the  extreme  simplicity  of 
the  inner  room." 

"No,"  said  Allani,  quietly,  "no  one  would  suspect 
it,  but  every  one  should.  The  Baron  cannot  be 
blamed  for  wishing  that  which  is  the  richest  to  be 
placed  on  the  outside,  where  it  will  make  the  most 
show.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  some  people  !  " 

The  honored  servant  bowed  delightedly.  How 
well  he  had  understood  Allani's  remark.  They 
passed  through  the  salon  des  cuirs  again,  and  had  to 
stop  to  admire  the  paintings.  By-the-way,  the  sub- 
ject is  David  and  his  Suite.  He  is  returning  in  tri- 
umph after  the  death  of  Goliath,  and  is  holding  the 
giant's  head  by  the  hair,  while  it  swings  from  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle. 

The  paintings  are  so  remarkably  restored,  that 
only  a  practiced  eye  can  detect  where.  In  the  lower 
limbs  of  some  of  the  figures,  one  sees  a  vein  like  a 
swollen  cord  or  muscle.  It  is  the  seam  where  the 
leather  has  been  sewn  together,  as  when  the  Baron 
found  them  they  had  been  cut  in  hundreds  of  pieces. 
What  a  triumph  to  have  restored  such  great  and  in- 
valuable works  of  art ! 


22O  Marked  "In  Haste" 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  all  of  the  beautiful 
things  in  the  chateau.  Mrs.  Adrian  retired  half-sob- 
bing to  a  corner  of  the  room.  When  the  ladies  gath- 
ered around  her,  they  remarked  her  distress.  She  ex- 
plained : 

"  This  footman  is  so  lordly,  we  can  never  give  him 
any  money.  I  think  that  the  only  thing  that  I  dare 
offer  him  would  be  my  diamond  solitaires,  and  natur- 
ally I  was  grieved  at  the  thought  of  parting  with  old 
mine  stones  ;  mine  in  truth,  but  it  must  be  done, 
they  will  be  mine  no  longer." 

Ethel  was  choking  with  laughter.  "  Dear  aunt," 
she  said,  softly,  "how  funny  you  are,  and  what  a 
thing  for  you  to  think  of.  Of  course  he  will  accept 
Zipourboire.  They  do  it  in  the  best  of  families."  Then 
Mrs.  Adrian's  fears  were  explained  to  the  gentlemen. 
The  Count  came  to  the  rescue. 

"I  will  sell  all  of  mine  first," he  said.  "Do  not 
fear,  while  my  purse  holds  out.  At  present  we  are 
in  no  danger." 

They  had  inspected  the  whole  house,  and  were 
just  going  toward  the  exit  when  the  footman  called 
them  back  to  look  at  something  that  had  escaped 
their  eyes. 

"  To  prove  to  you,"  he  said,  "  that  the  Messieurs 
Rothschild  do  not  vulgarly  display  their  wealth,  just 
cast  one  look  at  the  wall  on  each  side  of  the  grand 
staircase.  What  does  one  see  there  ?  Oh,  nothing 
much  !  only  two  plaques  in  bronze,  each  one  worth 
twenty  thousand  francs,  imbedded  in  the  solid  stone  ; 
and  they  are  put  in  so  ordinary  a  place  that  no  one 
would  think  of  remarking  their  value.  They  are 


Marked  "In  Haste."  221 

there,  simply,  unostentatiously,  comme  si  rien  rittait, 
that  is  just  like  the  Rothschilds.  They  never — "  The 
Earl  approached  him  and  interrupted.  He  made  a 
movement  which  was  not  shaking  hands,  but  some- 
thing like  it.  His  fingers  plosed  over  the  modest 
palm  of  the  faithful  follower.  The  Earl  smiled  and 
said : 

"  How  much  we  thank  you  I  never  can  tell." 

The  man  reddened  with  pleasure,  and  his  eyes 
were  dancing  in  his  head  as  his  lordship  turned  to 
go.  He  was  more  important  than  ever  before,  as  he 
said  to  a  gardener  who  approached  : 

"  Show  the  ladies  the  grounds,"  then  he  bowed 
stiffly  and  stood  watching  then*  out  of  sight.  As 
they  left  the  door,  Miss  Leslie  stopped  suddenly. 

"  Look ! "  said  she  to  the  Earl,  "  What  are  those 
two  objects  beyond  the  gates  ? " 

At  the  end  of  a  long  and  lovely  promenade,  there 
were  the  great  entrance  doors  to  the  park,  and  near 
each  on  the  outer  side  were  two  tall  white  posts.  A 
piece  of  wood  was  placed  horizontally  near  the  top, 
evidently  to  mark  the  direction  of  the  road.  From 
the  distance,  it  appeared  that  two  great  crosses 
flanked  each  of  the  gates.  The  Earl  followed  her 
glance. 

"  Every  one  has  their  crosses,"  he  said ;  "  it  looks 
strange  to  see  one  near  the  house  of  the  Rothschilds. 
A  Christian  might  have  them,  but  scarcely  an  Israel- 
ite." She  answered  : 

"  Yes,  all  of  the  world  has  his  own  to  bear  ;  but 
only  the  chosen  race  are  clever  enough  to  put  theirs 
on  the  outside  of  their  hearts,  and  houses." 


222  Marked  "/«  Haste." 

Then  they  turned  to  look  more  closely  at  the 
grounds. 

It  costs  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year  to 
keep  up  Ferrieres  ;  and  about  half  the  sum  is  spent 
on  the  garden  and  hot-houses.  The  flowers  are 
rare  and  beautiful,  and  the  conservatories  seem  un- 
ending. The  grapes  hang  from  their  vines,  a  mass  of 
green,  purple,  and  claret  color.  They  are  abundant 
enough  to  supply  the  table  of  generations  of  Roths- 
childs ;  while  oranges,  lemons,  and  other  fruits  thrive 
in  exotic  abundance. 

As  they  were  strolling  under  the  great  trees,  Lord 
Beaufort  turned  to  Miss  Leslie. 

"  Now  is  the  time,"  he  said.  "  May  I  tell  you  what 
I  had  in  my  mind  ?  " 

She  looked  up  coldly.  "  I — I — had  forgotten  ;  but 
what  was  it  ?  " 

He  bit  his  lip.  "  You  said  you  cared  to  hear  a 
moment  since." 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said,  gaily,  "  a  moment  since  is  not 
now.  Perhaps  I  have  changed  my  mind." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  curtly,  "and  perhaps  I  have  also 
changed  mine.  There  is  nothing  to  tell." 

She  looked  amused,  but  said,  coquettishly  :  "I  am 
sure  you  had  something  to  tell  me.  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  That  I  leave  Paris  to-morrow,"  he  replied, 
simply. 

She  started  and  grew  suddenly  pale.  He  watched 
her  closely,  but  said  nothing.  His  eyes  deepened  as 
they  fell  on  her  face,  and  an  intense  expression  came 
into  them  which,  had  she  read  at  the  moment,  would 
have  gratified  her  vanity  ;  but  she  was  thinking  of 


Marked  "In  Haste."  ^      223 

what  he  had  said — that  he  was  going  away.  Could  it 
be  possible  ?  Her  eyes  were  covered  with  a  film. 
She  was  furious  with  herself.  What  could  it  matter 
to  her  whether  he  went  or  stayed  ;  and  why  did  she 
permit  herself  to  seem  interested — perhaps  agitated  ? 
She  could  not  tell,  but  felt  uncomfortable  as  one 
does  when  taken  by  surprise,  and  a  long-hidden 
feeling  finally  bursts  the  bounds  of  restraint.  Trying 
to  appear  quite  indifferent,  she  looked  him  full  in 
the  face  and  spoke.  Her  eyes  were  tender,  her  face 
still  pale,  but  her  features  were  composed  and  her 
voice  quite  steady  : 

"  Indeed — you  are  leaving  Paris  to-morrow  ?  Is 
this  not  a  sudden  move  ?  And — and  how  long  shall 
you  be  away  ?  or  do  you  intend  coming  back  ?  And  if 
one  might  be  curious,  where  are  you  going  ? "  He 
said  : 

"  I  am  going  to  Sevres  to  buy  some  porcelain  for 
my  mother.  I  start  early  in  the  morning.  I  shall 
not  be  gone  long,  as  I  return — the  next  day."  Then 
he  laughed.  Le  miserable !  To  think  that  for  one 
moment  she  had  betrayed  herself,  and  how  sure  a 
proof  it  was  that  she  cared  for  him.  He  was  so  de- 
lighted at  the  success  of  his  ruse  that  it  was  impossible 
for  her  not  to  notice  it  by  his  manner.  She  reddened, 
commenced  to  get  angry,  and  finally  laughed. 

"  I  suppose  you  think,"  she  said,  "  that  it  makes 
some  difference  to  me  whether  you  go  or  stay.  The 
announcement  startled  me,  not  because  you  are  go- 
ing, but  because  I  think  of  going  myself;  and  who 
knows  but  that  we  might  accidentally  have  chosen 
the  same  direction  ?" 


224  Marked  "In  Haste." 

It  was  now  his  turn  to  pale.  He  was  too  much 
in  love  to  think  for  a  moment  that  she  was  paying 
him  back  his  own.  His  voice  was  really  troubled, 
as  he  said  quickly : 

"  You  are  not  in  earnest  !  It  cannot  be  !  Leave 
Paris  !  Tell  me  where  you  are  going,  that — that  I 
may  choose  the  same  direction.  Shall  you  be  away 
long  ?  when  will  I  see  you  ?  how  shall  I  know  where 
you. are  ?  may  I  come  ?"  desperately,  "let  us  make 
up  a  pleasure  party,  let " 

She  interrupted.  "  You  take  my  breath  away 
with  so  many  questions.  Well  !  if  you  must  know, 
I  leave  early  in  the  morning  ;  I  am  going  to  Sevres 
to  buy  some  china  for  myself,  and  I  return  to-mor- 
row night.  "f  He  looked  at  her  and  then  they  both 
laughed.  He  seized  her  hand,  and  kissed  it.  She 
tried  to  withdraw  it,  but  he  said,  pleadingly  : 

"  No,  let  me  keep  it.     Do  you  know  that  I " 

"  No,"  she  said,  shortly,  "  I  know  nothing  of  the 
sort.  How  can  you  be  so  silly  ?  Why  will  you 
spoil  what  promised  to  be  a  nice  friendship,  by  mak- 
ing love  to  me.  Why " 

Steps  were  heard  directly  behind  them.  The 
Countess  came  up  and  said,  with  her  sweet  voice: 

"  My  dear  friends,  the  carriages  are  waiting,  and 
we  are  all  ready  to  go.  Here  are  some  grapes  for 
you,  which  are  perfectly  "elegant"  and  a  rose  for  my 
lord,  who  loves  flowers.  Have  you  amused  your- 
selves ?  of  course,  been  flirting  ?  naturally.  Be  care- 
ful," to  the  Earl,  "  or  Leon  will  be  jealous.  But  let 
us  go,"  and  they  joined  the  party  already  gathered, 
and  waiting  for  them  in  the  roadway. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  225 

They  finally  reached  Paris  ;  night  had  fallen,  and 
the  weather  had  changed.  Clouds  were  hurrying 
through  the  sky,  the  wind  blew  fiercely,  and  the  day 
that  had  been  so  lovely  was  the  last  of  the  fine  au- 
tumn weather  of  1876. 

The  Earl  said  a  last  word  as  he  lifted  his  hat  to 
Miss  Leslie : 

"  This  has  been  my  red-letter  day.  How  can  I 
thank  you  enough  ?" 

She  smiled..  "  By  not  thanking  me  at  all.  We 
shall  see  you  Friday  at  the  Opera,  or  have  you  for- 
gotten the  engagement?" 

"Forgotten!"  There  was  a  world  of  meaning  in 
his  voice.  "  I  shall  not  live  till  then.  Forty-eight 
hours  will  seem  as  many  years.  A u  revoir  until 
Friday." 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

AT  THE  OPERA. 

THE  Grand  Opera  House,  as  is  usual  on  Friday 
night,  was  crowded.  The  wealth,  beauty,  and  fashion 
of  gay  Paris  filled  boxes,  parquette,  and  amphitheatre. 
In  one  of  the  first  of  the  proscenium  boxes  sat  the 
Duchess  de  Montpensier  with  her  family  and  suite;  in 
the  one  almost  vis-a-vis  sat  a  Baronne  de  Rothschild. 
In  the  third  to  the  right  sat  one  of  the  Faubourg  St. 
Germain  grandes  dames,  the  amiable  Baronne  de 
Parilly.  Near  by  was  the  family  Montferrand,  with 
the  charming  youngest  daughter,  who  resembles  the 
most  beautiful  portraits  of  Marie  Antoinette.  All 
of  the  grand  tier  was  besprinkled  with  fair  dames, 
noble  titles,  exquisite  toilettes,  and  flashing  jewels. 

Mrs.  Adrian  and  her  niece  had  a  fine  box  in  the 
curve  of  the  horseshoe.  They  were  visible  to  all  eyes, 
as  everybody  was  seen  by  them.  Miss  Leslie  was 
radiant  in  a  pale  canary  silk  trimmed  with  old  Valen- 
ciennes and  trailing  vines  of  the  scarlet  coqueliquot  or 
poppy.  Her  gloves  were  the  color  of  her  dress,  a 
little  deeper,  perhaps  ;  her  fan  had  stolen  the  gayest 
plumage  of  a  tropical  bird,  and  the  carved  stick  of 
sandal  imprisoned  at  the  same  time  the  faint  odor 


Marked  "In  Haste"  227 

that  Orientalists  love  so  well.  Mrs.  Adrian  wore  a 
Marie  Louise  blue  velvet,  the  corsage  cut  heart- 
shaped  and  trimmed  with  cream  roses  and  old  point. 
She  was  handsome  enough  to  attract  any  eye  ;  and 
although  both  ladies  were  dressed  with  the  greatest 
richness,  the  rare  modesty  and  taste  with  which  they 
wore  such  toilettes,  evidenced  much  good  breeding, 
and  an  utter  lack  of  wishing  to  be  conspicuous. 

The  opera  was  "Les  Huguenots,"  Me*yerbeer's  great 
work — great !  rather  his  greatest  work.  Strange  to 
say,  the  house  was  fairly  filled  before  the  end  of  the 
first  act.  At  the  beginning  of  the  second,  there  was 
a  tap  on  the  door  of  Mrs.  Adrian's  box.  It  opened, 
and  Lord  Beaufort  appeared.  He  took  Mrs.  Adrian's 
hand  and  kissed  it  in  true  cavalier  fashion,  then  he 
turned  to  Miss  Leslie  with  a  cheery  bonsoir.  She 
glanced  quickly  though  coldly  at  him,  and  extended 
her  hand,  saying  : 

"  What — I  am  to  be  neglected !  Do  you  wish  me 
to  be  jealous  ?  I  prefer  Vienna,  as  there  every  lady's 
hand  is  kissed  ;  but  here — bah,"  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  "  the  young  are  neglected  (with  a  sly 
glance  at  her  aunt)  for  the — the  less  young." 
Mrs.  Adrian  smiled  good  humoredly,  and  said  : 
"  Go  on,  my  dear  !  No  reference  to  my  years  can 
possibly  annoy  me.  Thank  heaven  !  we  are  in  a 
country  where  old  age  "  (with  a  complacent  settling 
back  in  her  chair)  "  is  respected.  In  other  places 
beauty  receives  the  first  attention  ;  but  in  France 
etiquette  demands  the  chivalry  of  even  a  Beau  Brum- 
mel  for  those  who  have  passed  the  zenith  of  life.  I 
hope  we  shall  always  live  in  France." 


228  Marked  "In  Haste." 

While  she  was  talking,  Lord  Beaufort  had  taken 
Miss  Leslie's  hand.  He  imprinted  a  kiss  on  it.  There 
was  little  ardor,  and  much  hesitation  as  he  stooped  to 
do  her  bidding.  Her  slight  fingers  seemed  cold  and 
listless.  She  cared  nothing  for  him,  that  was  evident. 
Her  very  remark  about  being  jealous  was  made  in  a 
tone  of  utter  indifference;  and  yet,  but  two  days  before 
he  had  thought  that  she  cared  for  him.  A  vision  of 
the  gardens  afFerrieres  rose  before  his  mind.  A  fair 
woman's  emotion  at  the  thought  of  his  going  away, 
and  the  continual  badinage  that  always  marked  every 
moment  of  their  intercourse,  these  came  back  to  him 
with  irresistible  fascination.  To-night  he  was  again 
in  her  presence.  She  was  lovely  as  she  only  could  be, 
yet  he  felt  she  was  cold.  The  violet  eyes  were  veil- 
ed in  a  mocking  sheen,  the  pale  face  was  a  shade 
paler  from  the  contrast  to  her  gown,  and  her  whole 
presence  seemed  to  breathe  the  most  complete  un- 
concern. 

The  orchestra  wras  still  playing  the  prelude  to  the 
second  act.  The  approach  of  Queen  Marguerite  de 
Valois  signalled  some  applause.  A  favorite  was 
cast  for  this  ungrateful  role,  and  while  the  limpid 
notes  of  "  Oh  beau  pays  de  la  Touraine .'  "  rang  out  on 
the  air,  the  half  murmur  of  indifferent  spectators 
was  hushed.  They  love  this  scene  in  Paris,  and 
much  is  made  of  it.  The  voice  soared  higher  and 
higher,  the  flutes  and  cellos  ran  on  in  a  continuous 
accompaniment  of  melodious  softness,  and  even  the 
most  uncultivated  could  enjoy  such  sweet  music. 

The  end  of  the  air  called  forth  wildest  applause. 
Beaufort  joined  in  most  heartily,  and  only  when  the 


Marked  "In  Haste"  229 

Maids  of  Honor  were  singing  the  famous  chorus, 
did  he  speak  to  Miss  Leslie. 

"  Although  I  love  every  note  that  Meyerbeer  has 
ever  written,"  said  he,  "  I  must  now  neglect  him  to 
talk  with  you.  Are  you  well  ?  yes,  you  are  looking 
charming.  How  have  you  passed  the  time  since 
Ferrieres?  and  did  you  buy  any  porcelain  at  Sevres  ?" 

He  sat  in  shadow,  but  near  enough  to  see  her 
dress  sweeping  back  of  his  chair.  He  was  not  vis- 
ible to  all  of  the  house,  nor  did  he  care  to  see 
anything  or  anybody  but  Miss  Leslie';  so  he  en- 
sconced himself  there,  evidently  bent  on  staying 
the  rest  of  the  evening.  He  laughed  as  he  asked  her 
about  the  Sevres  porcelain.  The  thing  was  a  ridicu- 
lous and  palpable  farce,  yet  she  answered: 

"  I  am  very  well ;  I  have  passed  my  time  less  hap- 
pily than  usual,  and,"  with  forced  gaiety,  "I  bought  a 
toilet  set  that  Du  Barry  herself  might  have  longed 
for." 

"  Why,"  said  he,  softly,  ignoring  her  other  remarks; 
"  why  has  your  time  passed  unhappily  ?" 

Her  face  grew  troubled.  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  an- 
swer ?"  she  said,  looking  seriously  at  him. 

An  eager  "  yes"  escaped  his  lips. 

"  I  regret,  but  I  cannot,"  she  responded,  then 
sighed,  and  her  hands  idly  fell  across  her  lap.  He 
took  up  her  fan,  saying,  "  Permit  me,"  and  seemed 
intent  on  examining  the  plumage  of  the  dead  tropi- 
cal bird.  As  he  stroked  the  feathers,  he  pondered 
whether  or  no  he  dared  ask  her  more.  She  had  been 
indifferent  when  he  first  came  into  the  box,  but  one 
question  of  his  had  changed  all  of  that,  and  now  she 


230  Marked  "In  Haste" 

sat  before  him  with  a  sad,  preoccupied  face.  He 
decided  to  attempt  wresting  from  her  some  confi- 
dence, knowing  as  he  did  that  she  had  been  to  the 
Latin  Quarter  even  more  frequently  than  before. 
He  thought  perhaps  that  something  had  occurred 
which  might  render  further  concealment  unnecessary. 
How  far  he  was  from  divining  the  real  truth  !  He 
said  to  her,  with  strange  earnestness : 

"  You  interest  me  beyond  any  woman  I  have  ever 
known." 

She  looked  up  quickly.  He  continued  :  "  I  some- 
times imagine  that  your  life  is  not  as  happy  as  you 
would  lead  the  world  to  imagine.  I  wish,"  with  in- 
creasing seriousness,  "  that  you  would  disclose  your 
real  nature  to  me  and  treat  me  less  coldly.  You  are 
such  an  enigma.  One  moment  grave,  the  next  gay  ; 
one  moment  friendly,  the  next  distant  ;  one  moment 
half-tender,  the  next  cold  ;  with  a  glacial  frigidity 
that  congeals  me.  What  have  I  done  to  merit  such 
poor  favor  ? " 

She  spoke  frankly  :  "  You  have  done  nothing,  my 
lord,  to  merit  disfavor  ;  believe  me.  It  is  not  you 
who  are  at  fault,  but  I,  myself.  I  suppose  few  in 
this  world  are  really  happy,  and  I  am  like  the  gene- 
ral run  of  people.  In  fact,  I  am  an  orthodox  young 
woman  "  (he  thought  to  himself,  "  yes,"  with  a  ven- 
geance), "  and  must,  of  necessity,  be  like  all  others. 
You  remember  Lord  Beaconsfield  was  once  accosted 
as  he  was  going  into  Parliament :  '  Good  morning, 
my  lord  ! '  '  Good  morning  ! '  'I  hope  you  are 
quite  well,  my  lord.'  The  great  Premier  pondered, 
stroked  his  forehead  thoughtfully,  and  put  back 


Marked  "In  Haste"  231 

a  stray  lock  that  fell  across  his  temple  ;  then,  still 
reflecting,  he  answered  :  '  I  think  we  are  none  of  us 
ever  quite  well  ;  oh  !  good  morning ! ' " 

The  Earl  laughed.  "  There  you  are  again,"  he  said  ; 
"  how  is  it  possible  to  ever  take  you  au  serieux  ?  " 

"  Do  not  try,"  she  answered,  "  t'would  be  too  hard 
a  task." 

"  I  am  not  to  be  discouraged  at  the  outset,"  he 
said,  boldly,  "  so  with  your  permission,  I  shall  try, 

and The  finale  of  act  second  crashed  -on  the 

air.  Valentine  is  refused  by  Raoul,  St.  Bris  receives 
his  daughter,  Queen  Marguerite  straightens  herself  in- 
dignantly, and  curtain  falls  on  the  grand  tableau. 

Miss  Leslie  looked  half  offended.  "  Here,"  said 
she,  "  have  we  been  talking  all  through  this  lovely 
music.  It  is  your  fault,  not  mine.  How  can  you  be 
so  inattentive  to  Meyerbeer  ?" 

"  I  can  worship  but  at  one  shrine  at  a  time, 
although  his  music  was  written  for  gods  and  lov- 
ers." She  began  to  look  uneasy.  He  continued: 
"I  am  not  a  god,  but  you  are  a  goddess,  and  I 
am  your " 

"  You  are  nothing  of  the  sort,"  she  interrupted, 
hastily. 

"  Pray,  mademoiselle,"  he  said,  with  perfect  com- 
placence, "  allow  me  to  finish.  How  do  you  know 
what  I  was  going  to  say  ?  " 

She  blushed,  did  not  answer,  and  commenced 
toying  with  her  fan,  when  a  snap  was  heard.  "  Poor 
fan,"  he  said,  pityingly,  taking  it  and  smoothing  a 
second  time  the  soft  plumage.  "  I  will  take  it  my- 
self, and — and  keep  it." 


232  Marked  "In  Haste." 

She  looked  curiously  at  him.  "  Oh,"  he  explained, 
"  if  you  permit  me,  I  will  send  you  another." 

"  I  should  send  it  back,"  she  said,  quickly. 

"I  supposed  you  would,"  he  replied,  with  utter  un- 
concern, "so  I  will  not  humiliate  myself  with  the 
refusal  of  a  simple  gift.  I  could  stand  due  mortifi- 
cation were  a  great  one  rejected,  but  never,  no,  never 
so  trifling  a  one  as  that  of  a  worthless  fan." 

She  laughed  sarcastically,  saying  :  "  You  seem  to, 
realize  beforehand  that  what  you  send  me  would  be 
worthless " 

"Worthless  in  your  eyes,"  he  interrupted,  calmly. 
"Well,  I  will  not  send  2cny  gifts  when  I  have  any  to 
offer  ;  I  will  bring  them  myself.  But  this  talk  is  idle, 
and  a  long  way  from  Meyerbeer.  As  I  said,  his 
music  was  written  for  gods  and  lovers.  When  the 
fourth  act  comes  on,  I  will  not  say  a  word.  This 
duet,  the  greatest  and  most  passionate  that  ever 
was,  is  to  me  the  climax  of  all  operatic  composition. 
I  love  it.  I  could  hear  it  every  hour  in  the  day  and 
every  day  in  the  week,  and " 

"And,"  she  interrupted,  "like  myself,  hear  it 
every  week  in  the  year.  Yes,  nothing  is  more  beau- 
tiful ;  and,  do  you  know,  in  your  dear  London  I  have 
seen  many  leave  the  theatre  just  as  that  act  com- 
mences ?  I  always  pity  any  one  who  has  so  little 
soul ! " 

"  He  looked  a  world  of  tenderness  as  he  answered  : 

"  Are  you  aware  that  you  are  of  my  opinion  ?  Do 
you  really  love  what  I  love,  or  have  you  forgotten 
yourself?" 

"  I  might  have  done  that,"  she  replied,  honestly, 


Marked  "In  Haste."  233 

"but  I  am  in  earnest,  this  time  we  agree.  I  really 
love  what  you  love." 

He  could  no  longer  contain  himself,  and  said,  des- 
perately : 

"  Yes,  and  I — I  love  you ! " 

"  That  just  makes  it,"  she  replies,  calmly,  "because 
I  love  myself.  That  is  a  proof  of  what  I  said.  I " 

Mrs.  Adrian  had  been  neglected  all  of  this  time. 
She  now  spoke.  Beaufort  was  getting  furious.  He 
realized  that  he  really  had  made  himself  conspicu- 
ous with  talking  so  much  to  Miss  Leslie,  only  to  be 
laughed  at,  and  he  had  quite  neglected  Mrs.  Adrian. 
He  turned  immediately  as  she  addressed  them  : 

"What  a  charming  cast,"  she  said,  sweetly,  "and 
how  good  of  you  to  come  to  our  box.  Where  is 
Mr.  Brandon  this  evening  ?  Is  he  ill,  does  he  not  like 
"  Les  Huguenots"  or — perhaps  we  will  see  him  later  ? " 

"No,"  said  the  Earl.  "He  had  a  'stag'  party  on 
hand  for  this  evening  and  sent  his  regrets  to  you.  The 
dinner  wa's  sure  to  be  interminable,  and  I  excused 
myself."  Then,  half  to  Miss  Leslie,  "  How  could  I 
neglect  any  opportunity  of  seeing  you,  and  how 
could  I  miss  a  performance  of  my  favorite  opera  ?  " 

Mrs.  Adrian's  voice  broke  in. 

"  There  is  Baronne  de  Parilly.  What  a  lovely  an- 
tique necklace  !  What  balls  she  gives  !  Why,  her 
salon  is  one  of  the  most  famous  in  Paris  ;  Madame 
de  Larenaton  is  with  her.  How  exquisitely  she  sings  ! 
There  is  that  lovely  Russian,  Madame  Bernadotti.  She 
is  certainly  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  have  ever 
seen.  And  there  is  Queen  Isabella  just  seating 
herself.  What  beautiful  jewels  !  what  a  superb  toi- 


234  Marked  "In  Haste." 

lette  !  and  how  stout  she  is  getting  !  Is  it,  yes,  it 
must  be  the  Girghenti,  now  Princess  d'Asturia. 
How  kind  of  Alfonso  to  step  into  a  throne,  just  to 
give  her  his  title  !  " 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Beaufort,  idly,  "  that  was  his 
only  reason.  A  very  accommodating  brother,  to  be 
sure.  By  the  way,  he  isn't  at  all  a  bad  sort.  I  used 
to  see  him  in  Heidelberg,  and  he  was  quite  sans  fa$on 
with  some  college  students.  He  makes  a  capital 
king.  He  is  very  fond  of  the  Opera,  and,  while  in 
Germany,  went  nearly  every  night." 

Mrs.  Adrian's  voice  again.  "  Why,  I  have  never 
seen  so  many  celebrities  at  the  Opera  before.  There 
is  Madame  Viardot  with  her  lovely  family " 

"  Viardot  !  "  broke  in  Beaufort  ;  "  What  an  artist ! 
what  a  woman  !  She  is  a  second  Hypatia  for  knowl- 
edge. What  a  pity  she  no  longer  sings  in  public. 
We  shall  never  hear  her  like  in  this  century  again." 

"  Never,"  said  Miss  Leslie.    "  She  is  great,  great !" 

Mrs.  Adrian  continued  :  "  There  is  her  lovely 
cousin,  Madame  Leonard  di  Mendi.  What  a  violinist 
Leonard  is,  and  what  charming  hours  we  have  passed 
under  their  roof !  What  a  pity  Louis  Blanc  is  so 
small  !  Everybody  comes  here  Friday  night.  Look 
at  Gambetta  !  They  say  he  has  the  evil  eye,  but,  of 
course,  no  one  believes  it.  On  dit  that  he  fascinates 
everyone,  particularly  women.  Fancy  calling  a 
man  lecharmeur.  And  there  is  De  Beriot,  Malibran's 
son,"  with  a  little  explanatory  nod  to  Beaufort.  "  To 
my  mind  he  is  one  of  the  most  delicious  pianists  in 
the  world.  There  is  Sardou.  What  a  cynical  look. 
He  is  in  that  stage  baignoire.  Upon  my  word,  he  will 


Marked  "In  Haste"  235 

fall  out  of  the  box  if  he  stares  any  harder  at  that 
blonde  in  the  right  proscenium.  There  !  there's  the 
Consul  General  and  his  lovely  wife.  Ethel,  I  think 
I  will  have  my  next  evening  toilette  made  precisely 
like  hers.  Only  those  red  geraniums  discolor  every- 
thing they  touch.  What  a  pity  !  ruins  satin,  posi- 
tively ruins  it.  Ah  ! "  a  little  sigh,  "  what  heavenly 
music  in  this  last  act.  What  a  number  of  Ameri- 
cans," still  running  on  with  her  chatter.  "Wall 
Street  is  well  represented."  She  bows  to  some  one. 
"  Mr.  W.  Marrs,  dear,"  explaining,  "  and  his  charm- 
ing wife.  He  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  gentlemen 
that  I  have  ever  met.  Do  look  at  the  swells  in  the 
parterre  !  "  She  might  well  say,  "  Do  look."  Always 
during  an  entracte  at  the  Opera  the  gentlemen  turn 
with  the  greatest  deliberation,  stand  and  stare  at 
the  house.  Considering  that  no  ladies  are  allowed 
in  the  orchestra  chairs,  a  startling  array  of  men, 
swallow  tails,  and  opera  glasses  is  disclosed.  This 
goes  on  during  each  stage-wait. 

While  Mrs.  Adrian  was  talking,  the  third  act  be- 
gan. Miss  Leslie,  who  was  calmly  using  her  glass, 
dropped  it  and  smiled  at  some  one  near.  "  Look  !" 
said  she  to  her  aunt,  "  there  is  Isaure  and  Count 
Leon,  and,  up  a  tier  higher,  are  Enrico  and  Lucia. 
How  glad  I  am  to  see  any  one  I  know,  when  I  come  to 
the  theatre  !  It  makes  the  evening  more  agreeable. 
Their  faces  are  always  a  welcome  sight." 

The  Earl  thought  himself,  they  know  everybody. 
He  listened  to  her  curiously.  She  was  evidently 
honest  in  her  likes  and  dislikes.  She  was  also  con- 
stant— a  virtue  in  man  or  woman. 


236  Marked  "In  Haste" 

Krauss,  one  of  the  great  dramatic  sopranos  of  the 
day,  finally  came  on  the  stage.  Her  Valentine  is  al- 
ways a  superb  performance.  The  Earl,  at  the  end 
of  the  lovely  duo  with  Marcel,  said  : 

"  She  never  has  done  better  than  to-night !  Her 
voice  sounds  as  well  as  in  Italian  opera.  I  antici- 
pate a  treat  in  the  fourth  act.  I  will  listen  to  the 
music  ;  envy,  as  I  always  have  done,  Valentine  and 
JRaoul,  and  will  think  of  the  woman  that  I  love " 

"  As  you  always  have  done  ?  "  Miss  Leslie's  voice 
was  deliciously  insouciante,  as  she  asked  this  ques- 
tion. 

"Not  'as  I  always  have  done,'"  he  answered, 
slowly  repeating  her  words,  " because  the  last  time 
I  heard  this  opera,  I  was  not  in  love,  but  as  I  always 
will  from  this  night  forth." 

It  was  impossible  not  to  understand  such  plain 
speaking  as  this.  The  Earl  looked  at  her  as  he  pro- 
nounced these  words.  She  never  changed  color, 
but  she  could  scarcely  pretend  not  to  comprehend 
his  meaning.  While  he  was  speaking,  the  conscious- 
ness again  came  over  her  that  he  was  not  indifferent 
to  her.  Was  she  interested  deeply,  perhaps  irresist- 
ibly ?  No !  her  reason  answered  that  that  must 
not  be,  at  least  not  now ;  still  her  heart  throbbed 
strangely,  and  the  lace  of  the  corsage  on  her  bosom 
was  agitated  by  her  emotions.  An  indefinite  sen- 
sation stole  over  her.  If  it  should  be — did  she  love 
him  ?  did  he  love  her  ?  She  raised  her  eyes,  think- 
ing, thinking  on  so  sweet  a  possibility.  He  was  gaz- 
ing into  her  face  with  a  deep,  searching  look,  that 
caused  her  to  drop  them  instantly.  How  could  she 


Marked  "In  Haste."  237 

stand  such  a  glance  ?  and  dared  she  really  compre- 
hend his  meaning  ? 

She  could  not  help  reading  this  intense  passion, 
but  she  must  not  let  him  know  that  she  understood. 
Oh,  the  misery  of  the  terrible  consciousness  that  was 
dawning  upon  her  ! 

His  voice,  tender,  impassioned,  broke  upon  her 
thoughts.  He  said  simply,  "  We  will  listen  to  the 
fourth  act  together."  Yes ;  she  had  understood 
aright. 

The  opera  went  on.  When  the  wonderful  con- 
spiration  scene  was  given,  the  house  rose  with  en- 
thusiasm. Valentine,  pale  and  terror-stricken,  sits 
beside  her  husband.  De  Nevers  refuses  part  in  the 
conspiracy,  and  breaks  his  sword  with  energetic 
fervor.  He  throws  the  blade  that  never  has  known 
dishonor  at  St.  Bris's  feet.  Even  Miss  Leslie  started. 

"  I  like  him  for  that !  "  she  said,  simply,  "  and  Val- 
entine should  have  loved  him  better." 

The  Earl  made  answer  :  "  She  probably  liked  him 
better,  but  F amour  ne  se  commande  pas" 

Mrs.  Adrian  was  enjoying  the  opera.  She  thought 
the  music  fine.  She  remarked  on  the  intensity  of 
Meyerbeer. 

"It  is  quite  wearing  on  one's  nerves,"  she  said, 
"and  I  would  not  care  to  hear  the  Huguenots  every 
night.  However,  I  suppose  one  can  stand  it  occa- 
sionally. What  a  curious  thing,"  continuing  her 
monologue,  "  that  this  opera  succeeded  so  well  the 
first  night.  This  great  duet,  really  the  scene  of  the 
piece,  was  not  composed  until  after.  My  lord," 
suddenly,  "  I  had  forgotten  to  say  something.  It  is 


238  Marked  "In  Haste" 

not  a propos,  but  has  just  come  into  my  mind.  Do 
not  make  any  engagement  for  the  tenth  of  December, 
unless  you  have  already  done  so.  We  have  our  first 
soiree,  and  I  count  upon  you  and  your  cousin  both 
being  present.  Ethel,  add  your  powers  of  persua- 
sion. I  am  anticipating  such  a  pleasant  time." 

Just  then  the  lovely  strains  of  "Ah,  say  again" 
hushed  even  Mrs.  Adrian.  "  What  heavenly  music  ! " 
she  said.  "  You  will  come  ? "  The  Earl  bowed  a 
yes,  and  Ethel  put  her  fingers  to  her  lips  in  sign  of 
silence.  The  gratified  lady  smiled  contentedly,  and 
said  no  more. 

The  sweet,  sensuous  strains  continued.  The  fine 
melodious  cantabile  was  breathed  forth  from  RaouFs 
lips.  The  music,  surcharged  with  all  that  is  most 
appealing  to  human  passion,  floated  on  the  air  with 
its  intoxicating  charm.  At  first  soft  and  pleading, 
then  stronger,  and  more  replete  with  love  and 
pathos. 

The  scene  continues.  Raoul,  overcome  by  love  and 
the  seductive  charm  of  Valentine's  presence,  clasps 
her  in  his  arms.  He  whispers  the  tender  avowal  of 
his  passion  ;  he  begs  her  to  fly  with  him,  anywhere, 
anywhere  out  into  the  night ;  away  from  false  sur- 
roundings, away  from  the  man  to  whom  she  is  yet 
bound  in  honor.  Valentine  hesitates.  To  give  her- 
self up  to  him  ?  No,  that  is  done  already.  Is  the 
deed  worse  than  the  thought  ?  Yet  she  is  still  torn 
by  conflicting  emotions.  Raoul  drops  on  his  knees, 
his  voice  pleading  with  all  a  strong  man's  power— 
"  Come,  ah  come  !  "  Can  she,  will  she  resist  ?  Again 
the  words,  and  yet  again,  "Wens,  ah  viens  /"  Oh,  the 


Marked  "In  Haste"  239 

subtlety  and  charm  of  that  maddening  duet,  the  in- 
spiration of  such  music  ! 

Miss  Leslie  clasped  her  hands  on  the  ledge  of  the 
box,  her  face  the  incarnation  of  rapt  attention.  Lord 
Beaufort  sat  quite  away  from  her  in  shadow.  He 
was  listening  to  Raoul's  pleading,  also  he  was  think- 
ing to  himself  of  the  agony  of  being  obliged  to  leave 
the  woman  one  loves. 

Ever  and  anon  he  looked  at  Miss  Leslie.  Never 
again  could  he  say  that  her  face  was  always  cold. 
She,  like  himself,  was  moved,  and  a  warmth  of  feeling 
stole  over  her  features  that  he  had  often  dreamed  of, 
but  had  never  yet  seen. 

The  duet  continues.  Valentine  begs  Raoul  to  stay, 
confessing  that  she  loves  him.  She  repeated  the 
tender  phrase  "ah  dis  encore  que  tit  m'atmes."  Follow- 
ing the  finale,  the  sound  of  booming  cannon  rings 
on  the  air.  Raoul,  desperate,  imprints  one  kiss  on 
her  pale  brow  and  leaves  her  fainting,  stretched  ap- 
parently lifeless  at  his  feet.  Leaping  from  the  win- 
dow, he  goes  to  join  his  comrades.  At  the  moment 
when  the  realization  of  his  life's1  dream  approaches, 
he  leaves  the  woman  he  loves,  knowing  full  well  that 
perhaps  he  may  never  see  her  face  again.  The 
hoarse  cry  of  the  mob  rends  the  night  ;  blood  flows 
in  torrents,  the  apartment  is  illumined  with  a  terrible 
glare,  the  cannonading  grows  louder,  the  awful  mas- 
sacre of  the  night  of  St.  Bartholomew  cries  for  more 
victims.  As  he  leaps  to  the  ground,  Valentine  rushes 
to  the  window.  An  agonized  scream  escapes  her, 
and  feeling  that  one  sentiment  is  stronger  than  even 
the  greatest  of  all  passions,  she  sinks  to  the  floor. 


240  Marked  "Sn  Haste" 

Beaufort  was  trembling  with  excitement.  He 
turned  to  Miss  Leslie  and  spoke  in  tones  of  deepest 
feeling. 

"  Tell  me — could  you — can  you  understand  such  a 
love  as  Valentine's  ?  " 

She  looked  up  with  a  resolute  face,  v  "Yes,"  she 
answered,  slowly,  weighing  every  word.  "Yes,  I  can 
understand  Valentine,  but  I  best  understand  Raoul. 
His  passion  was  as  great,  perhaps  greater,  but  he 
knew  how  to  sacrifice  his  love  to  his  honor." 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

BRANDON'S  DISCOVERY. 

LORD  BEAUFORT  was  disheartened  ;  after  the  Opera 
he  saw  little,  in  fact,  nothing  of  Miss  Leslie.  It  was 
a  long  time  until  the  tenth  of  December  ;  but  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait.  He  pondered  over 
her  words  after  the  fourth  act  of  Les  Huguenots,  and 
saw  in  them  a  distinct  although  covert  allusion  to 
herself  and  her  secret. 

One  thing  he  felt  almost  sure  of,  she  was  not  in- 
different, and  she  surely  liked  him.  "  Like  "  was  a 
poor  word  compared  with  the  great  love  he  had  for 
her.  When  would  this  mystery  cease  ?  When  could 
he  know  all  ?  and  could  he  ever  hope  to  be  more  to 
her  than  he  was  at  present  ?  It  seemed  a  distant  and 
unrealizable  wish,  yet  he  nourished  a  desperate  hope 
that  sooner  or  later  she  would  be  his. 

He  called  at  Avenue  Matignon  several  times.  Miss 
Leslie  was  never  in.  Once  he  saw  Mrs.  Adrian 
just  as  she  was  going  out.  She  was  delighted  to 
meet  him,  and  expressed  the  liveliest  regret  that 
they  had  always  been  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  be 
at  home  when  he  called.  The  day  for  the  ball 
was  approaching,  and  he  longed  for  it  as  eagerly 
ii 


242  Marked  "In  Haste" 

as   a   thirsty   traveller   watches   for   an    oasis   in   a 
desert. 

His  love  developed  in  him  a  trait  hitherto  un- 
known to  a  Beaufort.  He  basely  watched  the  wo- 
man he  adored  ;  he  followed  her  carriage  in  secret ; 
he  saw  that  her  visits  to  the  Latin  Quarter,  instead 
of  becoming  rarer,  were  growing  more  frequent. 
She  was  often  alone,  and  as  often  accompanied  by 
her  aunt. 

Thank  heaven,  no  man  was  ever  with  her.  That 
was  at  least  a  consolation. 

Sometimes  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face.  Oh, 
how  pale  it  was  and  how  sad !  But  one  night,  to  his 
amazement,  he  saw  Mr.  Gratiot  with  her.  They  had 
a  bundle  of  papers  and  were  talking  excitedly  to- 
gether. That  was  the  one  preceding  the  set'rSe,  and 
the  next  she  would  smile  upon  her  guests  with  all 
the  innocence  of  a  young  maiden  whose  life  was 
clear  and  unsullied. 

What  was  the  mystery  ?  What  did  Mr.  Gratiot  have 
to  do  with  it,  and  who  was  the  occupant  of  No.  7 
Passage  St.  Pere  ?  His  head  turned,  his  brain  seemed 
on  fire,  his  heart  throbbed,  his  nights  were  sleep- 
less, his  health  was  being  undermined.  Yet  his  part 
must  be  played  to  the  end  as  well  as  hers.  "  Oh, 
what  a  tangled  web  we  weave,  when  first  tempted 
to  deceive ! " 

The  morning  of  the  tenth  broke  clear  and  cloud- 
less. He  felt  cheered  by  the  sunlight.  He  inhaled 
the  sweet  air,  and  blessed  nature  that  she  smiled 
upon  him.  He  mounted  his  favorite  steed,  and  with 
his  kinsman  went  to  the  Bois.  There  were  many 


Marked  "In  Haste"  243 

riding  at  that  hour.  The  sound  of  iron  hoofs  rang 
over  the  pavement,  and  when  he  reached  the  woods 
the  alle'e  reserved  for  riding  was  already  crowded. 
The  fine  dry  weather  was  aught  but  wintry.  It 
seemed  a  special  dispensation.  He  was  to  see  his 
love  that  day,  and  even  nature  turned  her  sweetest 
face  toward  him. 

When  they  returned,  Mr.  Brandon  left  him  en 
route.  He  was  to  breakfast  at  an  old  cafe  near  the 
Palais  du  Luxembourg,  and  they  would  not  meet 
until  afternoon.  The  cousins  exchanged  a  few  af- 
fectionate words  of  farewell. 

At  half-past  two  he  returned.  The  Earl  was  writ- 
ing to  his  mother.  He  seemed  surprised  that  his 
cousin  had  gotten  back  so  soon.  His  surprise 
changed  to  anxiety  when  Brandon  told  him  that  he 
must  confer  with  him  immediately. 

The  Earl  instinctively  thought  of  Miss  Leslie.  He 
stretched  out  his  hand,  and  said  : 

"  You  wish  to  speak  of  her  ?  Quick  !  Do  not 
keep  me  in  suspense.  My  God,  has  anything  hap- 
pened ?  " 

"  Something  has  happened,"  said  Brandon,  "  but 
not  to  her  ;  that  is  to  say,  she  is  well,  but — 

"But,"  impatiently.     Brandon  approached  nearer. 

"I.  have  news,"  he  said.  "Listen.  First  deny 
yourself  to  every  one — we  must  talk  in  secret." 

The  Earl  gave  the  order  and  closed  the  door. 
They  remained  closeted  for  over  an  hour  ;  then  they 
came  forth  from  the  chamber.  Beaufort  was  pale, 
and  his  face  glowed  with  suppressed  passion. 

"  I  will  never  believe  it,"  he  said.     "  Never  !  and 


244  Marked  "In  Haste" 

to-night — "  wildly,  "  to-night,  who  knows  if  the  soi- 
ree will  take  place  ?  " 

"  There  seems  nothing  to  hinder,"  said  Brandon, 
coolly  ;  "  we  will  go  to-night,  the  same  as  if  I  had 
heard  nothing.  Her  position  is  not  changed  ;  the 
only  question  is,  whether  or  not  your  own  remains 
the  same.  If  you  care  to  go — 

"  If  I  care  !  "  Beaufort  said,  desperately,  "you  know 
I  care.  I  love  her.  I  shall  never  miss  an  opportu- 
nity of  seeing  her." 

"Knowing  what  you  do  ?"  hazarded  Brandon. 

"  I  know  nothing,"  doggedly,  "  and — and  I  believe 
nothing.  I  love  her  !  " 

"  Will  you  reason  ?  " 

"  No,  I  love  her." 

"  How  will  you  act  toward  her  this  evening?  " 

"  The  same  as  of  old.  The  same  as  if  you  had 
told  me  nothing.  I  love  her !  " 

"  Promise  me  one  thing,"  said  his  cousin,  earn- 
estly ;  "  that  you  will  not  propose  to  her,  that  you 
will  make  no  professions  to  her." 

"That,"  said  the  Earl,  bitterly,  "is  very  easy  to  do. 
She  never  gives  me  a  chance  to  make  love  to  her. 
Why  should  I  be  more  favored  to-night  than  any 
other  ? " 

Brandon  was  in  despair.  He  was  near  losing  his 
patience.  He  prayed  God  that  he  might  never  fall 
in  love.  His  prayer  was  unuttered,  but  perhaps,  like 
many  that  have  no  words,  it  reached  the  throne  of 
Grace  quite  the  same. 

"Will  you  promise  ?  "  he  began. 

"  No,"  said  the  Earl,  "  I  will  not.     I  promise  on 


Marked  "In  Haste."  245 

the  contrary  to  tell  her  all.  If  chance  favors  me, 
and  I  feel  as  I  do  now,  she  shall  decide  for  me  what 
the  future  is  to  be." 

"  And  the  past  ?  "  said  Brandon. 

"  It  no  longer  exists,"  he  said  proudly.  "  My  love 
is  great.  It  is  a  bridge  that  will  span  all  time.  If 
she  but  trust  to  it,  it  will  carry  us  both  safely  over. 
Adieu !  we  meet  this  evening." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

SOIREE  AT  MRS.  ADRIAN'S. 

THE  ball  was  at  its  height  ;  the  pretty  hotel  had 
never  looked  more  charmingly.  Mrs.  Adrian,  very 
magnificent  in  a  violet  moire  antique,  did  the  honors 
with  her  hospitable  American  simplicity.  In  ad- 
dition to  the  many  foreigners  present,  there  were 
the  cr$me  de  la  crhne  of  the  colony  in  Paris.  With  a 
few  exceptions,  all  was  cream.  It  will  not  do  to 
be  too  select  in  a  cosmopolitan  city,  while  heaven 
preserve  us  from  the  salon  des  de'dasse's  ;  but  Mrs. 
Adrian,  with  her  usual  tact,  managed  to  bring  to- 
gether the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  titled  and  the  com- 
moner, without  much  respect  for  rank,  and  very 
little  more  for  station — provided  one  was  highly  re- 
spectable. 

It  was  a  real  American  soiree  in  Paris.  There  were 
poets  in  embryo,  singers  en  amateur,  doctors,  den- 
tists, wits,  fools,  millions,  and  half-hidden  misery, 
lawyers,  bankers,  aye — even  brokers,  ambassadors, 
lords  and  ladies,  dames  and  demoiselles,  with  the  usual 
run  of  high-life  hangers  on,  whose  escutcheons  had 
the  palatable  flavor  of  beefsteak  au  champignon  (not  a 
battle-field),  and  whose  money,  strange  to  say,  posi- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  247 

lively  diminished  their  brains.  Oh,  the  luxury  of 
being  so  rich  that  all  natural  talent  is  dwarfed  before 
the  better  inherited  benefits  of  Mammon  !  When 
one  is  a  reputed  archi-millionnaire,  how  is  it  possible 
to  also  have  the  reputation  of  great  intelligence  ? 
Mammon  outbids  Minerva  in  this  nineteenth  century. 
The  world  at  large  will  never  insult  a  rich  man  by 
inquiry  into  his  brain  rather  than  his  bank  account. 

Miss  Leslie  was  almost  obliged  to  divide  her 
honors  this  evening.  Her  dear  friend,  Countess 
Isaure,  was  resplendent  in  a  marvellous  toilette  of 
emerald  satin  and  filmy  lace ;  her  jewels  exhausted 
the  Hungarian  husband's  coffers;  but,  best  of  all,  her 
lovely  form  was  grace's  very  exponent,  and  the  dark 
eyes  flashed  with  pleasure  and  curiosity.  This  was 
one  of  her  first  American  soirees,  and  being  very  fond 
of  Mademoiselle  Leslie's  compatriots,  she  found 
everything  they  did  agreeable,  everything  they  said 
witty,  and  every  new  face  most  interesting.  Count 
Leon  Vandalin  was  at  her  side,  and,  with  the  hostess, 
they  were  really  the  most  admired.  His  bright  wit 
flashed  out  continually,  and  his  laugh  rang  out  so 
unaffectedly  that  his  lady  often  admonished  him: 
"Leon,/>  fenprie!  we  are  not  at  home." 

"  That,"  said  he,  coolly,  "is  the  reason  I  laugh  so." 
Miss  Fanny  Read,  one  of  the  greatest  amateurs 
America  has  ever  produced,  was  going  to  sing.  There 
was  a  hush,  and  her  beautiful  voice  rang  out  with  a 
touching  pathos.  She  began  a  romance  of  "  Merca- 
dante,"  and  sang  as  few  Italians  can.  Her  pronun- 
ciation of  the  soft  labials  disguising  her  American 
birth.  When  she  had  finished,  there  was  a  storm  of 


248  Marked  "In  Haste" 

applause,  and  just  as  the  last  words  of  Cohen's  VAveu 
were  sung  (in  response  to  the  inevitable  encore), 
Miss  Leslie  raised  her  eyes  and  saw  Lord  Beaufort 
standing  near  the  singer,  spell-bound.  Athol  Bran- 
don was  just  making  his  way  toward  Mrs.  Adrian, 
and  the  Earl,  on  catching  Miss  Leslie's  eye,  smiled 
and  came  forward.  She  offered  her  hand  mechani- 
cally, and  said  : 

"  I  thought  you  were  too  enchanted  to  even  think 
of  saying  good  evening;  but,"  quickly,  "  I  will  for- 
give you,  the  charm  of  certain  voices  none  could  or 
should  withstand." 

He  looked  at  her  seriously.  "Are  you  jesting  or 
in  earnest  ?" 

"  I  am  in  earnest,  and,  on  the  contrary,  would 
never  have  forgiven  you  had  you  come  to  me  and  in- 
terrupted the  music." 

"  I  enjoyed  the  singing,"  he  said,  calmly,  "but  was 
thinking  more  particularly  of  the  words.  Sempre  io 
famero,  che  vien  la  morte,  che  vien  la  vita  da  te — ."  He 
looked  in  her  eyes,  "  Da  tc." 

She  interrupted.  "  Oh,  I  understand  all  of  that, 
every  Italian  song  is  the  same,  and  most " 

"Most  English  ones,"  he  added.  "Mine  is,  I  know; 
but  you  will  not  seem  to  appreciate  it." 

"That's  just  my  mechancete.  You  explain  my  sen- 
timents by  the  word,  seem,"  she  said,  playfully,  "and 
of  course,  if  I  don't  appear  to  appreciate,  that  means 
that  I  do  !" 

"  How  kind,"  he  said.  "Are  we  to  have  the  walk  you 
promised  me  an  age  ago?  But  permit  me,  you  are 
looking  uncommonly  well  this  evening,  and  not  a 


Marked  "In  Haste"  249 

bit  older."  She  raised  her  eyes.  "  It  is  so  long 
since  I  have  seen  you  that  I  fully  expected  to  find 
you  changed.  Where  have  you  been  all  of  these 
days,  and  why  have  I  been  so  unfortunate  as  never 
to  see  you  ?  You  had  no  reason,"  earnestly,  "  it 
was  only  my  ill-luck,  that  I  never  found  you  when 
I  have  called?" 

"  I — I  have  been  much  occupied  and  not  always 
well;  however,  I  have  never  denied  myself  to  you, 
I  have  really  been  out  at  those  times.  I  am  so  glad 
to  see  you  this  evening." 

"  But,"    persisted   the    Earl,    "  what  has    become 


She  evidently  wished  to  change  the  subject,  and 
said,  quickly :  "You  say  I  do  not  look  a  bit  older — 
that  is  not  strange,  I  never  intend  to  grow  old."  Then 
she  assumed  her  usual  tone  of  badinage.  "One  old 
thing  in  the  house  at  a  time  is  enough  ;  and  aunt 
just  bought  an  aloe  yesterday;  we  have  put  it  beside 
the  new  century  plant  called  American  Freedom." 

He  looked  at  her  with  secret  amazement.  After 
what  he  had  heard  that  afternoon  !  How  was  it 
possible  for  any  woman  to  lead  such  a  double  life  ? 
What  an  extraordinary  nature  !  Brandon  could  not 
have  been  in  the  wrong !  Well,  it  was  none  of  his 
affair.  She  could  play  a  part,  so  must  he  ;  but, 
where  would  it  all  end  ?  Why  had  fate  entangled 
him  into  so  hopeless  a  web  of  mystery  and  love  ? 
Why  was  he  destined  to  desire  that  which  to  many 
would  seem  undesirable — to  adore  where  his  love 
might  never  be  returned  ?  She  was  looking  at  him, 
and  expected  some  response.  He  thought  all  this  ; 


250  Marked  "In  Haste" 

his  mind  was  half  distraught,  yet  he  answered,  try- 
ing to  appreciate  her  surprising  pleasantry. 

"  How  gay  you  are  this  evening  !  but,  when — 
when — the  promenade  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  leave  my  guests,"  she  says,  airily ;  "  be- 
sides, I  don't  need  to  take  a  walk  now." 

"  Mrs.  Adrian,"  said  the  Earl,  going  deliberately 
toward  the  lady,  "  I  am  persuading  your  niece  to 
show  me  the  new  plant,  but  she  insists  that  she  is 
too  busy.  Will  you  not  plead  my  cause  ? " 

Madame  laughed.  "  Your  arrival  is  late,  my  lord, 
but  the  cause  is  a  good  one.  Assuredly  you  have 
my  help — nay,  more,  I  insist  on  Ethel's  showing  you 
some  attention  and  some  aloes." 

She  took  his  arm.  "  How  persistent  you  are  !  " 
she  said,  when  they  had  reached  the  inner  salon.  She 
stopped  on  half  seeing  a  white  image  in  the  mirror. 
He  looked  at  her  with  deep  admiration. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are  !  "  said  he.  "  What  must 
you  think  of  yourself  when  you  look  in  the  glass  ? " 

"  Think  !  "  she  answered,  brightly ;  "  why,  a  great 
deal.  In  fact,  it  is  one  of  the  few  serious  reflections 
I  make  in  life  that  gives  me  pleasure." 

"  One  must  pardon  the  vanity,"  he  laughed,  "  for 
the  wit ;  but — how  vain  you  are,  to  be  sure  !  " 

She  looked  puzzled.  "  I  do  not  understand,  my 
lord.  Vain  ?  am  I  not  a  woman  ? " 

"Yes,"  he  responded,  very  readily,  "but,"  with 
marked  ungallantry,  "  I  do  not  see  why  that  is  so 
great  a  reason  for  being  proud." 

"  Proud  ?  "  she  said,  quickly.  "  Do  you  then  call 
vanity  pride  ?  " 


Marked  "In  Haste."  251 

"  No,"  he  retorted,  "  but  I  call  some  pride,  false 
pride,  vanity.  Why  then,  if  you  so  prefer  it,  should 
the  mere  fact  of  being  a  woman  be  a  cause  for  van- 
ity ? " 

"Because,"  simply,  "proud  of  not  being  a  man. 
What  can  be  lower  than  that  part  of  the  human 
tree  ? " 

"  The  root  ;  and  the  root  is " 

"  Underground,  thank  heaven  !  "  she  interrupted, 
with  levity.  "  Do  not  let  us  disinter  what  society 
plants— 

"  And  nature  elevates." 

"  I  suppose  that  you  think  I  am  in  the  same 
humor  that  I  was  the  day  of  Isaure's  breakfast  ?  Per- 
haps. Your  British  phlegm  has  come  to  the  rescue  ? 
Nature,  undoubtedly,  elevated  one  man,  once  upon 
a  time ;  but,  believe  me,  no  one  except  an  English- 
man could  give  Eden  the  modern  name  of  Lon- 
don." 

"  I  can  give  it  a  better  name  still,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"  Now  that  you  are  here,  I  unhesitatingly  call  it 
Paris." 

They  walked  on,  with  murmured  good  evenings 
here  and  there.  It  seemed  as  if  they  never  would 
reach  the  conservatory.  Part  of  the  rear  was  de- 
voted to  flowers,  and  the  other  part  to  a  beautiful 
balcony  or  terrace,  looking  out  on  the  garden.  There 
were  steps  leading  down,  and  from  the  iron  railing, 
although  seemingly  a  few  yards,  the  descent  was  really 
a  long  one.  The  night  was  wondrously  soft  and 
beautiful.  The  winter  shrubs  of  the  garden  wore  a 
summer  green,  and  the  little  statuettes,  gleaming 


252  Marked  "In  Haste" 

here  and  there  through   the  verdure,   looked   like 
mocking  sprites  and  conscious  tale-bearers. 

Miss  Leslie  approached  the  terrace,  but  half  shiv- 
ered. She  was  attired  in  a  dress  of  lace,  creamy 
point  (T  applique  ;  so  well  suited  to  youth  and  loveli- 
ness, that  its  priceless  value  never  strikes  the  be- 
holder. The  hot  air  of  the  conservatory  was  tem- 
pered by  the  open  door  leading  to  the  terrace  ;  the 
rlowers  were  in  brightest  bloom,  and  fairest  of  all, 
was  the  awakened  "sleeping  beauty"  heroine  of  a 
hundred  years  of  sommeil.  The  pale  flowers  looked 
strangely  upon  their  less  new  companions,  but  felt 
not  at  all  out  of  place.  How  shall  we  feel  to  awaken 
after  sleeping  for  a  century  ? 

"  Here,"  said  she,  "  is  the  wondrous  plant." 

He  looked  at  it,  then  at  her. 

"  I  am  more  pretentious,  yet  more  modest.  Why 
will  you  speak  of  century  plants  ?  I  only  came  to 
look  at  it,  an  excuse  to  be  alone  with  you." 

"You  are  brave,"  she  said,  gaily ;  "this  is  my  night 
for  showing  off  everything  and  everybody.  How 
dare  you  go  into,  not  extremis,  but  exile  with  me  ? " 

"  I  would  go  anywhere  with  you,"  he  answered, 
regardless  of  her  mocking  tone,  "but  I  suppose 
there  are  a  dozen  here  to-night  who  are  all  anxious 
to  show  their  devotion,  and  who  would " 

"  Upon  provocation,"  she  interrupted. 

"  Without  provocation,"  he  continued,  sturdily, 
"offer  to  do  as  much  or  go  as  far  as  myself.  A  propos, 
who  are  here  this  evening  ?  I  never  before  knew  that 
Americans  were  so  titled  and  scientific.  There  are 
no  less  than  nine  distinguished  physicians." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  253 

"  They  are  not  all  doctors  in  medicine,"  she  broke 
in;  "  some  are " 

"  What  ?     In  music  ?  piano  ? " 

"No,  not  piano,  but  something  that  covers  piano 
keys." 

"  What  can  you  mean  ?  "  he  said,  wonderingly. 

"  Ivory,"  she  remarked,  sententiously,  and  smiled. 

"  Ivory  ? "  then  seeing  her  gleaming  white  teeth, 
"Ah — bless  me,  you  mean  dentists." 

"You  have  divined  their  profession." 

He  shuddered.    "  I  am  amazed  !    In  society !  " 

"  Dear  my  lord,"  she  interrupted,  "  one  may  have 
more  or  less  sympathy  for  a  calling,  but  no  Ameri- 
can looks  down  upon  any  gentleman  who  earns  an 
honest  and — and  courageous  living.  Besides,  look 
at  the  wealth  that  it  commands  !  One  of  the  most 
beautiful  residences  in  this  city  is  called  Palais  des 
Mac/wires.  Its  owner  is  really  most  charming  and 
distinguished." 

"  Yes,"  he  added,  "  I  remark  the  distinction.  These 
gentlemen  are  all  decorated  ! " 

She  laughs  sarcastically  : 

"Is  the  Victoria  cross  more  worthily  bestowed 
upon  an  Englishman  who  jumps  down  a  Rus- 
sian's throat,  than  the  grand  cross  of  the  Legion 
of  Honor  upon  an  American  who  goes  down  that 
of  his  Empress  to  extract  glory,  and  her  imperial 
tooth  ? " 

"  Both,"  he  added,  decidedly,  "  are  the  reward  of 
valor  and  merit,  but "  • 

"  It  undoubtedly  takes  courage  for  any  man  to 
face  a  Russian  bullet,  but  confess  it  takes  much 


254  Marked  "In  Haste" 

more  to  extract  one  under  the  circumstances.  For 
shame,  my  lord  !  You  are  chary  of  your  praise. 
You  do  not  appreciate  my  compatriots,  the  decorated 
ones." 

"  I  appreciate  them  all,"  he  said,  calmly,  "but  you 
have  not  done  with  the — the  doctors.  Who  comes 
next  ? " 

"  That  dark  man,"  she  said,  "  standing  against  a 
Cupid.  He  does  not  pull  teeth  out  dead — he  puts 
them  in  alive,  extracted  from  one  person's  mouth, 
and  in  twelve  seconds  they  are  transplanted  and 
flourish  in  the  bouche  (Tun  autre — a  most  marvellous 
but  satisfactory  process.  He  came  here  poor  and 
honest ;  he  will  leave,  or  will  never  leave,  Paris — 
rich  and  honest." 

"  Stop,  stop  !  which  do  you  mean  ?  that  he  will 
never  leave  Paris,  or  that  he  will  never  leave  it " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  laughed  in  turn,  "  I 
spoke  so  hastily  that  one  might  gather  a  wrong  im- 
pression from  my  words.  I  mean  that  he  will  never 
leave  Paris,  but  will  live  here  to  gather  in  the  rents 
from  his  blocks  of  buildings,  to  enjoy  his  money  as 
an  honest,  clever  man  should,  who  has  earned  it  all 
honestly." 

"  That  sounds  more  amiable.     Next " 

"  Ah,  next !  Some  live  glowing  with  ambitious 
fires,  others  die  to  be — cremated.  That  young  M.D. 
speaking  to  that  gentleman,"  indicating  another  doc- 
tor whose  craft  is  similar,  and  whose  wife  was  study- 
ing for  the  stage — "that  youth  is  ambitious.  My 
aunt  met  him  yesterday  on  the  Boulevard,  and,  after 
a  hasty  bonjour,  he  said  :  '  I  haven't  seen  you  in  an 


Marked  "In  Haste."  255 

age,  madame  (they  had  never  met  but  twice  previ- 
ously). I  hope  you  are  in  good  health.'  '  Yes,'  re- 
sponded aunt,  '  and  you — no  need  to  ask  !  Let  me 
congratulate  you.  I  hear  you  are  married — and  to 
a  countess.'  He  looked  up  composedly.  'Yes,  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  have  done  well.  I  married  a  lady  of 
title.  I  suppose,'  desperately,  '  that  you  know  she 
is  much  older  than  I  am  ;  but  then,'  looking  seriously 
at  aunt,  '  I  always  preferred  the  society  of  ladies 
much  my  superior  in  age.  Yes — I  have  done  well. 
It  looks  like  boasting,  but  I  must  say  that  my  wife 
comes  of  a  most  distinguished  stock.  Her  father 
was  a  marquis,  her  first  husband  a  baron,  and  her 
second  a  count.  She  is  very  well  off,  and  her  child 
by  her  first  husband  makes  a  delightful  companion 
for  me.  He  is  a  baron,  of  course,  enormously  wealthy 
and — and  nearly  my  own  age.  Funny,  isn't  it  ?  '  with 
a  little  laugh.  '  I  should  say,'  interrupted  aunt,  with 
icy  politeness,  '  that  it  would  make  your  home  life 
extremely  agreeable  to  get  on  so  well  with  your  pre- 
decessors' offspring,  not  to  speak  of  the  worldly  ad- 
vantage accruing  from  so  brilliant  a  match.'  He 
smiled  broadly  and  raised  his  head.  '  My  business 
has  improved,'  boastingly.  '  Our  firm,  you  know,  D. 
and  Co.,  Baltimore,  had  no  cause  to  complain  before, 
but  I  clear  now,  for  my  share,  from  two  to  three  hun- 
dred francs  a  day.  All  of  her  distinguished  friends 

'     Aunt  bowed  and  held  out  her  hand.     '  Let 

me  congratulate  you  doubly,'  she  said.  '  Au  revoir  ! 
so  charmed  to  have  met  you.'  When  she  came  home 
an  invitation  was  immediately  despatched  to  M.  le 
Comte  and  Madame  la  Comtesse." 


256  Marked  "In  Haste." 

"  The  count  ?  "  Beaufort  said,  inquiringly. 

"  Naturally,"  she  answered,  "  he  has  become  that 
by  courtesy.  This  is  not  England,  where  a  friendly 
sovereign  leaves  home  to  marry  a  Queen  and  be- 
comes only  Prince  Consort.  They  do  things  much 
better  in  France,  and  with  the  usual  politeness.  He 
is  also  decorated,"  she  added,  naively,  "  Order  '  Lion  ' 
and  '  Scimitar  ' — clime,  Persia." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  Earl,  to  represent  his  own 
bravery  and  sharpness." 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  honestly,  "and  his  wife's  el- 
bows. I  am  glad  to  see  you  so  appreciative.  Aunt 
explained  her  reason  for  sending  an  immediate  in- 
vitation. 'We  should  always  respect  those  who  get 
on  in  the  world,"  she  said,  '  I  must  hasten  to  repair 
my  thoughtlessness.  It  is  thus,'  half  unconsciously, 
'  that  true  enterprise  is  often  under  a  cloud,  and 
real  merit  overlooked.  We  owe  all  possible  recog- 
nition to  those  who  succeed  in  life,  and  above  all  to 
those  who  are  so  contented  and  satisfied  with  them- 
selves and  their  own  success.'  " 

Beaufort  was  convulsed  with  laughter,  but  said  : 

"  No  one  could  too  heartily  commend  Mrs.  Adrian's 
discretion  and  knowledge  of  what  this  world  requires ; 
but  I  am  afraid,  dear  Miss  Leslie,  that  under  all  this 
show  of  appreciation  you  are  quietly  having  your 
bit  of  fun  at  every  body  else's  expense." 

"Ma  parole,  no,"  she  said;  "but  come,  we  have 
been  away  so  long  that  aunt  will  expect  to  see 
another  cactus  in  full  bloom  by  the  time  I  reach 
the  salon."  He  looked  up  half  tenderly. 

"  Have  we  been  away  so  long  ?  You^/z*/  it  long  ?  " 


Marked  "In  Haste"  257 

"I  never  found  anything,"  she  said,  "but  a  horse- 
shoe once  upon  a  time,  and  that  I  keep  in  my  bou- 
doir to  support  a  certain  picture." 

"Whose?"  he  asked,  bluntly;  "man  or  woman?" 

"Man." 

"  Do  you  care  so  much  for  any  man  that  his  pic- 
ture is  in  your  boudoir?  And  the  horseshoe,  I 
suppose  that  is  for  luck  ? " 

"Yes,  luck  for  the  picture's  original." 

"And  you  think  a  great  deal  of  him?" 

"  His  counterfeit  is  on  my  mantel,  but  his  original 
is  in  my  heart." 

"Ah!"  coldly,  "  that  means  that  you  love  him." 

"  Precisely,  that  I  love  him."  He  started  up  an- 
grily. 

"May  I  presume,  may  I  ask  who  is  the  happy  indi- 
vidual?" 

"You  are  presuming,"  she  said,  calmly,  "and  you 
may  ask  ;  but — but  I  won't  answer." 

"A  thousand  thanks,"  he  said,  stiffly,  "I  am  al- 
ready answered."  Then,  half  unconsciously,  "I  have 
no  right  to  pry  into  your  secrets." 

She  paled,  but  made  no  answer.  He  was  furious. 
To  think  that  any  one  of  God's  creatures  could  be  so 
heartless,  so  intriguing,  and  seemingly  so  innocent, 
when  her  life  was  one  living  lie  ;  but  withal,  to  think 
that  he,  heretofore  an  honest  man,  could  be  so  en- 
thralled by  her  fatal  beauty  as  to  follow  her  slightest 
nod !  day  after  day  to  allow  himself  to  become  more 
and  more  her  slave  ;  to  be  almost  a  co-partner  in  a 
miserable  secret,  yet  not  caring  or  daring  to  do  other- 
wise than  honor  the  woman  to  whom  a  whole  world 


258  Marked  "In  Haste" 

did  honor.  He  was  amazed  that  he  could  not  think 
less  of  her ;  but  he  was  not  society's  reformer,  far 
be  it  from  his  self-imposed  task  to  enlighten  the 
world  on  any  subject  ;  but  worst  of  all,  he  began  to 
doubt  the  woman  he  loved,  although  in  his  heart  he 
could  not  say  that  he  loved  her  less.  Until  to-day 
and  this  evening,  he  had  hoped  any  solving  of  the 
mystery  but  this  one.  She  had  allowed  him  to  think 
that  she  cared  for  him,  but  to-night  he  realized  that' 
she  loved  some  one  else. 

Her  half-unconscious  glances  of  tenderness  were 
the  usual  outcome  of  the  coquette's  training;  her 
sometimes  sincerely  expressed  pleasure  at  meeting 
him,  was  naught  but  polite  fiction ;  when  she  played 
and  trifled  with  his  feelings,  she  could  not  but  see 
that  he  was  in  love  with  her.  Why  did  he  seek  every 
opportunity  of  being  near?  Why  did  he  pass  one 
day  thinking  how  he  could  see  her  the  next  ?  Why, 
knowing  the  woman,  as  he  thought  he  did,  had  he 
ever  allowed  one  sentiment  to  escape  his  lips  that  was 
not  the  merest  nothing  tolerated  in  polite  society  ? 
Enough,  he  would  no  longer  be  the  plaything  of 
heartless  guilt.  After  to-night,  he  would  never  see 
her  again.  Never  again  !  Brandon  would  be  happy. 
Ah !  he  drew  a  deep  breath ;  but  oh !  the  agony  of 
those  words !  Never  again  to  look  into  her  face, 
never  to  be  near  her,  never  even  to  satisfy  his  heart 
with  the  poor  happiness  of  looking  upon  so  much 
loveliness.  Well,  it  was  better  so.  After  to-night 
she  \vould  never  see  him  ;  but  until  this  ball  was 
over,  let  him  at  least  be  a  man,  and  play  his  part  to 
the  end.  He  was  excited  and  troubled,  but  the  mo- 


Marked  "In  Haste"  259 

mentary  anger  died  away.  Perhaps  he  had  hoped 
too  much.  "  L  amour  ne  se  eommande  pas"  that  was 
what  he  had  told  her  about  Valentine.  Could  she 
help  loving  the  original  of  the  picture  ?  and,  after 
all,  was  there  not  something  honest  in  thus  avowing 
such  a  love  at  a  time,  too,  when  he  might  have  gone 
farther  ? 

On  how  many  occasions  had  he  been  near  throw- 
ing himself  at  her  feet,  when  some  wretched  contre- 
temps would  change  all  his  tenderness  into  quasi-in- 
difference  ?  But  now — well,  she  had  never  gone  so 
far  as  this  before.  Any  idiot  could  understand  her 
words  ;  and  as  to  her  meaning,  that  seemed  still 
more  plain. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

FRIENDSHIP. 

WHILE  he  had  been  communing  thus  uncon- 
sciously with  himself,  she  had  approached  the  win- 
dow. One  arm  leaned  against  the  heavy  framework, 
her  white  drapery  floated  about  her,  against  the 
vines  and  flowers  ;  her  face  was  upturned,  and  the 
light  from  a  waxen  candelabra  shone  full  upon  it. 
She  was  in  herself  a  picture  to  touch  any  one's  heart. 
The  face  which  but  a  moment  since  had  worn  an 
expression  of  the  liveliest  banter,  was  now  pale, 
troubled,  and  full  of  unspeakable  sadness.  He  was 
touched.  She  was  unhappy,  and  who  could  know 
the  cause  of  her  grief?  Who  could  fathom  the 
mystery  weighing  on  her  young  life  ?  Who  should 
not  but  admire  the  character  capable  of  so  much 
firmness,  and  the  will-power  that  could  present  to 
the  world  so  unflinching  a  front  ?  She  might  love 
another,  but  nothing,  no,  nothing !  she  could  ever  do 
or  be,  would  prevent  his  loving  her  while  life  lasted. 
She  would  never  know  it,  unless  her  heart  divined 
his  passion  by  some  one  of  those  inexpressible  indi- 
cations that  love  alone  can  notice.  He  would  never 
humiliate  himself  by  any  declaration  of  love.  He 


Marked  "In  Haste."  261 

was  her  friend,  if  she  needed  one,  but — how  to  tell 
her,  how  to  let  her  know  ?  He  went  toward  her. 
She  half  started  from  her  revery. 

"  Forgive  my  indiscretion,"  he  said,  simply,  tend- 
ering his  hand  with  humble  grace,  "  and  only  let  me 
wish  you  first  the  fullest  realization  of  your  dearest  de- 
sire, with  life-long  happiness.  Next  to  ask  a  favor. 
This  :  That  in  whatever  circumstances  of  life  you 
may  find  yourself,  you  will  permit  me  the  happiness 
of  being  your  friend.  You  are  young,  life  is  long, 
and  the  world  is  wide.  One  never  knows  what  may 
happen,  but  one  is  never  poorer  with  an  honest, 
sincere,  and  disinterested  friend.  I  will  be,  nay,  am, 
that  one." 

She  started  forward  with  a  glow  upon  her  face, 
and  held  out  both  hands  : 

"My  lord,"  she  made  answer,  "'tis  I  who  am 
honored.  I  accept  the  offer  and  thank  you  with  my 
whole  heart;  but  friendship,"  suddenly,  "how  do 
you  understand  the  word  ?" 

"As  you  do,"  he  said,  looking  her  boldly  in  the 
face.  "  Friendship  can  have  but  one  meaning  to 
honest  folk.  It  claims  the  dearest  thoughts  and  the 
best  wishes,  is  self- abnegating,  unselfish.  At  its  call, 
one  goes  to  the  end  of  the  world  with  blind,  un- 
questioning obedience  ;  it  never  doubts,  never  fears, 
but  is  ever  ready.  A  strong  arm  to  lean  upon  ; "  he 
looked  steadily  at  her,  "  a  true  heart  to  confide  in,  if 
ever  one  feel  the  need  of  unburdening  the  soul  ;  a 
human  creature  so  akin  to  one's  self,  that  any  call 
made  upon  its  sympathy  and  devotion  is  answered 
with  instant  reciprocity ;  but,  above  all,  between 


262  Marked  "In  Haste" 

friends  must  exist  the  feeling  that  offers  a  blind 
obedience  to  the  slightest  wish  ;  the  power  to  enter 
into  one's  thoughts  but  not  to  know  them  ;  to  do 
unhesitatingly,  without  requiring  to  ask  the  why  nor 
the  wherefor  ;  to  call  upon  when  needed,  to  rejoice 
when  one  is  glad,  to  be  silent  when  one  is  sorrow- 
ful ;  to  be,  in  short,  the  one  creature  in  the  world 
moved  by  no  feeling  of  interest  other  than  the  com- 
plete well-being  of  the  cherished  object  ;  to  be  de- 
voted, self-sacrificing,  and,  above  all,  true  as  the 
needle  to  the  pole  ;  to  be  able  to  feel  that  whatever 
betide,  there  is  one  to  call  upon  whose  constancy 
knows  no  unswerving,  whose  tenderness  no  mother 
could  outvie,  who  forgives  and  hopes  to  be  forgiven, 
whose  pulse  never  beats  a  false  emotion,  whose  life, 
honor,  and  protection  are  at  the  service  of  the  one 
who  desires  it,  whose  whole  being  shall  be  the  living 
example  and  definition  of  so  honest  a  sentiment  as 
that  of — friendship." 

He  bent  gracefully  on  one  knee  and  raised  her 
hand  to  his  lips,  saying  : 

"This,  then,  lady,  is  what  I  understand  by  the 
word,  and  this  is  what  I  offer  at  its  heart's  shrine." 
He  bowed  low  over  her  hand,  then  arose.  She  looked 
into  his  face  with  her  clear  eyes. 

"  You  honor  me,  my  lord,  when  you  say  that  I 
understand  the  word  as  you  do,  and  yet  I  must  say 
that  that  is  also  my  idea  of  friendship." 

She  seemed  so  reassured  by  his  earnestness  that 
some  of  the  old  playful  badinage  came  involuntarily 
back.  She  continued  :  "  But  as  you  express  it,  the 
words  are  strong.  Let  us  be  guarded.  Although  I 


Marked  "In  Haste"  263 


do  not  believe  it  wholly,  yet  they  do  say,  ' 

f  amour  sans  ailes,'  and,  and  —  be  careful.     You  have, 

or  seem  to  have  some  heart  ;  mine  is  not  adamant, 

but— 

"But  incomprehensible,"  he  added,  not  unkindly. 
"  Ah,  woman,  woman,  who  may  know  thy  caprices  ?  " 

"  Any  other  woman,"  she  answered,  lightly  ;  "  but 
come,"  seriously,  "we  have  been  here  a  very  long 
time." 

"  Not  long,"  he  answered,  gaily,  "  when  you  realize 
that  we  came  to  study  a  century  plant."  And  thus 
conversing  they  made  their  way  to  the  inner  rooms. 
They  had  not  been  missed,  evidently.  Could  Bran- 
don but  know  the  truth.  All  was  ended  between 
them.  He  was  her  sworn  friend,  and  friend  only,  for 
ever  more.  When  they  reached  the  salon,  Brandon 
came  toward  them. 

"You  have  missed  some  delightful  music,"  he 
said,  "a  doctor's  wife  has  just  sung  deliciously. 
What  beautiful  voices  these  Americans  have  !  I  hear 
there  is  still  another  lady  present  who  is  a  most  cul- 
tivated amateur.  She  will  sing  later.  But  where 
have  you  been  ?  " 

"  To  the  conservatory,"  she  answered,  "  look- 
ing -  " 

"Looking  at  a  century  plant,"  interrupted  Beau- 
fort. "Mrs.  Adrian's  latest." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Brandon,  "  I  should  have  thought  not 
the  last  but  the  first;  or  no,  her  great  -grandmother's 
first." 

"Naturally,"  retorted  Miss  Leslie.  "My  great- 
grandmother  was  first  ;  my  own  dear  granny  came 


264  Marked  "In  Haste" 

next,  and  my  mother  was  before  me,  strange  to 
say — 

"Mademoiselle,"  interrupted  a  voice,  "a  young 
American  is  going  to  play,  but  he  wishes  to  make  a 
selection  that  will  please  you.  What  shall  it  be  ? " 

"  Ah  ! "  as  she  glanced  up,  "  our  young  friend 
William  Russel.  I  choose  at  once  the  '  Ballade 
in  la  bemol.'  Chopin  is  such  a  favorite  composer, 
and  he  plays  that  most  charmingly." 

They  drew  near  the  piano.  The  rooms  were  so 
crowded  that  locomotion  was  very  difficult.  The 
pianist  saw  his  hostess  approaching,  and  seated  him- 
self. As  usual  when  one  begins  to  play  at  a  soiree, 
that  moment  every  body  begins  to  talk.  A  lady 
near  by  looked  extremely  contented  and  said, 
scarcely  under  her  breath  : 

"  Ah  ;  now  we  can  chat  a  little.  I  can  never  really 
collect  my  thoughts  so  well  as  when  one  is  playing 
some  of  Chopin's  heavenly  music." 

Lord  Beaufort  looked  amused,  and  simultaneously 
the  three — he,  Brandon,  and  Mademoiselle — looked 
at  each  other.  They  almost  laughed  aloud  at  the 
lady's  sincerity.  The  "  Ballade  in  la  bemol "  is  one 
of  the  great  composer's  most  tender  inspirations. 
The  pianist  played  it  unusually  well,  and  at  its  close, 
in  spite  of  talking,  he  was  greatly  applauded.  Miss 
Leslie  drew  near  to  thank  him. 

"  It  is  so  kind  of  you,  and  I  enjoyed  it  as  I  always  do 
your  playing,  but  it  is  a  pity  people  will  talk.  How  can 
one  have  the  courage  to  keep  on  !  My  fingers  would 
be  all  thumbs,  and  I  should  mercilessly  interpose  flats 
for  sharps,  naturals  for  accidentals,  and  so  on." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  265 

"  Frankly,"  he  made  answer,  "  I  love  to  play  in 
my  class,  for  my  friends,  in  a  concert  hall;  but  not  at 
soirees.  One  does  not  lack  the  courage,  but "  laugh- 
ingly, "  to  tell  the  truth,  it  takes  courage 

"  To  interrupt  the  general  conversation,"  said  the 
Count  Vandalin,  who  came  up  at  that  moment.  "  I 
understand  you."  At  which  they  all  laughed,  and  the 
artist  joined  in  more  heartily  than  any  one. 

"  Just  what  I  was  about  to  say,"  he  continued, 
pleasantly,  "but  for  this  evening  no  more  piano." 

"  C'est  juste  !  "  said  the  Count.  "  Rubenstein  him- 
self would  scarcely  be  appreciated  at  an  ordinary 
soiree." 

"  Ordinary,  Count,"  said  Miss  Leslie  ;  "  you  dare 
to  call  our  first  evening  ordinary  ?  " 

"  Yes,  more  than  that,  extra-ordinary,  and  extra- 
ordinarily delightful.  Here  comes  Isaure.  She  is 
on  the  arm  of  that  charming  Mr.  Allani,  but —  but  I 
am  not  jealous.  I  have  already  made  acquaintance 
with  an  extremely  pretty  woman,  and  now  she's  '  my 
flirt.'  "  Countess  Isaure  came  up. 

"I  have  had  supper,"  she  said;  "sandwiches, 
champagne,  and  some  ice  cream  that  was  perfectly 
elegant !  "  Beaufort  laughed  and  said  : 

"  Dear  Countess,  your  English  is  so  expressive." 

"  That,"  she  retorted,  "  is  not  English,  it  is  Ameri- 
can. I  just  heard  a  young  belle  make  use  of  the  ex- 
pression, and  thought  at  once  that  I  could  do  so. 
She  said  :  '  This  cake  is  too  lovely  !  do  give  me  a  bit 
of  wine  !  what  an  exquisite  sandwich !  but  the  ex- 
pressions I  find  most  drole  were  the  cream  being 
'perfectly  elegant,'  and  '  what  heavenly  butter  ! ' " 


266  Marked  "In  Haste." 

It  was  impossible  to  withstand  the  humor  of  the 
Countess.  Even  Miss  Leslie  laughed,  the  Count  was 
in  a  roar  of  merriment,  and  from  that  time  forth 
everything  seemed  to  take  a  ludicrous  turn.  The 
only  exception  was  when  Madame  Celarini  sang. 
Her  lovely  voice,  like  the  measured  cadence  of  the 
harp,  was  more  than  beautiful.  She  sang  a  romance 
of  Schira's  Sognai,  and  followed  it  with  Clay's  path- 
etic ballad  "  She  Wandered  down  the  Mountain 
Side."  All  seemed  to  appreciate  her  exquisite  sing- 
ing, but  Lord  Beaufort,  who  was  ever  a  willing  lis- 
tener, on  this  occasion  was  preoccupied,  and,  strange 
to  say,  did  not  speak  of  the  lady's  talent  Miss  Leslie 
chided  him. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  unappreciative,"  she  asked, 
"as  to  listen  to  such  singing  unmoved  ?" 

"  Do  you  like  it  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly,"  she  responded,  "it  is  a  marvel  of  cul- 
tivation and  sweetness." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  responded,  sadly,  "  that  I  did  not 
half  hear.  My  thoughts  were  far  away." 

"  That  is  nothing ;  at  least,  go  and  tell  the  lady  how 
much  you  enjoyed  and  appreciated  her  singing." 

"I?"  he  asked,  with  surprise. 

"  Yes,  you." 

"  But  what  shall  I  say  ? "  he  queried,  desperately. 

"  Anything  you  like.  Tell  her  how  pleased  you 
were  to  hear  her,  how  delightfully  she  sings." 

"  I  have  not  the  honor  of  knowing  her." 

"  I  will  present  you,"  she  responded.  In  this  he 
acquiesced  with  very  evident  pleasure.  They  reached 
the  piano.  Madame  was,  as  usual,  surrounded  by  a 


Marked  "In  Haste"  267 

score  of  admirers,  and  one  by  one  as  they  withdrew, 
room  was  made  for  others.  At  last  Mademoiselle 
Leslie  saw  her  way  clear.  She  begged  to  present 
Lord  Beaufort  to  madame,  at  the  same  time  telling  in 
her  pretty  way,  how  she  had  charmed  them  all  with 
her  beautiful  singing.  Celarini  said  : 

"All  flatter  me,  but  you,"  indicating  her  young 
hostess,  "  I  think,  are  sincere." 

"  Toujours"  she  responded,  then  turned  to  give  his 
lordship  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  the  fair  prima. 
He  commenced : 

"I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  pleasure  you  have 

given  me.  I  adore  music,  and  a  voice  like  yours •" 

She  looked  him  through  and  through.  Madame  C 

was  one  of  the  few  rich  and  handsome  society  ladies 
who  believe  in  telling  the  truth  on  all  occasions — that 
is  to  say,  nearly,  most,  all  occasions.  And  how  she 
"  got  on  "  was  sometimes  rather  curious.  Those  who 
knew  her  well  admired  this  peculiar  quality  ;  those 
who  did  not,  received  her  extraordinary  remarks  with 
perfect  quiescence.  Most  people  at  evening  parties, 
in  polite  circles,  are  so  accustomed  to  utter  false  com- 
pliments and  hollow  nothings,  that  even  the  most  hon- 
est take  to  the  routine  quite  naturally.  Nor  can 
we  imagine  anything  more  dreadful  than  to  hear  ab- 
solute truth  at  all  times,  and  especially  at  a  ball  ? 
Could  one  well  tell  a  lady  that  her  dress  was  awry, 
badly  made,  and  unbecoming  ;  to  another  that  her  nose 
was  red,  and  her  husband,  at  that  moment,  in  a  cab- 
inet particulier  with  a  dancer  of  the  Opera ;  to  an- 
other that  her  maid  had  disclosed  the  cause  of  certain 
visits  to  an  uncertain  portrait  painter  ;  to  a  young 


,    268  Marked  "In  Haste" 

man  that  he  had  taken  too  much  wine,  and  that  his 

liaison  with  Madame was  town  talk ;  to  a  singer 

that  she  had  no  voice ;  to  a  pianist  that  he  had  no 
technique  ;  to  a  poet  that  he  had  no  talent  ;  to  the 
lady  of  the  house  that  her  ball  was  a  failure,  and  so 
on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter  ?  Oh,  no,  society  has 
arranged  things  much  better  than  that.  One  is  per- 
fectly justified  in  saying  polite  nothings  to  anybody, 
to  tell  a  fright  that  she  is  beautiful,  and  to  do  every- 
thing exactly  in  the  way  modelled  by  the  one  who 
gave  the  first  soiree.  One  makes  elaborate  prepara- 
tion for  the  evening's  enjoyment  ;  one  leaves  the 
cares  of  the  day  at  home  ;  the  neglected  wife  finds 
that  another  man  can  see  charm  in  her ;  the  whole 
world  goes  home  feeling  soothed  and  flattered  by 
the  half-hour  of  excusable  fiction  daily  enacted  in 
society.  Imagine  the  uproar  and  discomfort,  if 
every  one,  at  a  ball,  told  only  what  he  thought  the 
truth  to  his  neighbor !  Excuse  us,  please  ;  we  do  not 
care  to  dwell  on  any  such  catastrophe.  Lord  Beau- 
fort continued : 

"  A  voice  like  yours  is  so  rare,  I  really  cannot  tell 
the  pleasure  you  have  given  me." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  strangely,  "  no,  I  suppose  you 
couldn't ! " 

"  Qu'est-ce  que  cela  voudrait  dire,  madame  ? "  won- 
deringly,  but  with  studied  politeness. 

"  It  means,"  she  said,  naturally,  "  that  I  do  not  be- 
lieve you  care  for  my  voice  or  my  singing.  You 
did  not  even  hear  me,  and  I  like  to  hear  the  truth 
sometimes.  Why  do  you  come  to  compliment  me  ? " 

He  looked  up  and  answered  :    "  How  delightful. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  269 

You  like  to  hear  the  truth  !  I  am  occasionally  in 
that  mood  myself.  Well,  you  shall  hear  the  truth.  I 
only  came  to  compliment  you  because  your  friend  in- 
sisted upon  it.  You  are  right  not  to  believe  me,  for 
I  told  you  a  perfect  falsehood.  I  like  some  voices, 
but  I  do  not  like  yours.  I  could  tell  you  just  how  much 
pleasure  you  gave  me — none  at  all  !  The  little  I 
heard  I  did  not  like,  and,  in  fact,  I  would  have  paid 
no  further  attention,  had  not  my  attention  been 
specially  called  toward  you." 

He  bowed  contentedly,  as  if  he  had  been  uttering 
the  most  delicate  compliment.  Paying  her  back  so 
promptly  in  her  own  coin  was  so  rare,  that  she  sus- 
pected the  presence  of  counterfeit,  and  only  on  see- 
ing that  he  did  not  smile,  did  she  begin  to  realize  that 
she  had  had  the  much  longed-for  truth  told  her.  She 
was  furious,  of  course,  as  we  all  would  be,  and  red- 
dened to  the  roots  of  her  hair.  Lord  Beaufort  at- 
tempted to  say  nothing  more,  and  she  had  to  make  the 
best  of  the  situation.  She  was  equal  to  the  emergency,' 
however,  and  put  out  her  hand  with  gentle  grace. 

"I  owe  you  my  thanks,"  she  said  naively,  "but 
excuse  me  if  I  seemed  not  to  understand  all  at  once. 
I  could  never  imagine  any  Englishman  capable  of 
telling  the  truth,  and  naturally  your  frankness  stag- 
gered me  a  little.  Adieu  and  bonsoir." 

She  turned  away  to  receive  some  more  compli- 
ments. Lord  Beaufort,  longing  to  roar  with  laughter, 
still  half  listened  to  her  new  admirer.  She  did  not 
tell  him  what  she  told  the  Earl,  and  I  think  that  was 
the  last  time,  in  the  course  of  her  life  at  fashionable 
soirtes,  that  she  exacted  the  truth  from  any  one. 


2/0  Marked  "fn  Haste" 

The  cotillon  was  about  to  begin,  and  the  hall  was 
cleared  for  dancing.  Mrs.  Adrian  had  to  hear  so 
many  compliments  for  the  beautiful  evening,  that  she 
felt  overwhelmed.  The  musical  part  of  the  soiree 
finished  by  the  loudest  and  most  acclaimed  selection. 
Mr.  Henry  Squires  sang  "  The  Star  of  Love,"  Wal- 
lace's beautiful  ballad,  with  such  sweetness  of  voice 
and  perfection  of  method,  that  all  were  enchanted. 
His  lovely  wife  then  came  forward,  and  they  gave 
the  grand  duo  from  Mercadante,  "  II  Bravo"  with  the 
superb  effect  that  only  such  artists  know  how  to  pro- 
duce. The  blending  of  voices  that  have  harmonized 
for  years,  the  perfect  purity  of  their  Italian  school- 
ing, made  their  singing  quite  unique  and  delightful. 
Madame  was  such  a  musician  that  she  accompanied 
as  well  as  sang,  a  rare  thing  for  an  artist  to  do,  but 
eminently  satisfactory  when  one  realizes  that  the 
nicest  effects  are  sometimes  ruined  by  a  bungling 
pianist,  who  can  waltz  through  a  scherzo,  finishing  it 
in  three  "  pounds  "  without  a — scruple  ;  yet  who 
could  not  accompany  "My  Pretty  Jane"  with  aver- 
age decency  as  far  as — as  a  demi-semi-quaver,  or  the 
Garden  Gate.  After  continuous  applause,  the  ger- 
man  commenced,  and  soon  the  ball-room  was  filled 
with  flying  figures.  The  pretty  conceits  of  the 
cotillon  were  more  charming  than  ever,  the  favors 
furnished  by — no  names  mentioned  (I  am  not  ad- 
vertising any  swell  fournisseur) — were  rich  and  rare, 
with  real  enamel  on  the  small  bonbon  boxes,  and 
real  bangles  in  the  way  of  bracelets.  The  happy 
hours  sped,  and  when  the  "  wee  sma  "  ones  went 
timidly  out,  Aurora  was  just  gilding  the  heavens. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  271 

Her  band  of  colors  outvied  the  cotillon  favors,  her 
rose-colored  lights  outshone  all  that  was  most  couleur 
de  rose  at  the  ball.  Crowds  poured  from  the  hospitable 
mansion,  belles  had  shone  and  beaux  had  conquered, 
but,  above  all,  had  Mrs.  Adrian's  first  At  Home  been 
a  grand  success. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

"  MARKED    IN    HASTE." 

THE  day  following  the  soiree  was  a  memorable  one. 
Lord  Beaufort  returned  home  with  conflicting  emo- 
tions. He  could  not  yet  relinquish  all  hope  of  ever 
being  nearer  and  dearer  to  Miss  Leslie,  and  yet — 
he  felt  that  some  one  stood  between  them,  and  he 
turned  over  in  his  mind  what  Brandon  had  told  him 
the  day  before.  His  heart  still  cherished  a  faint 
espoir.  When  is  this  ever  completely  dead  in  the 
breast  ?  Certainly  the  Earl  had  little  cause  to  think 
that  he  could  ever  be  aught  than  a  friend — perhaps 
not  even  that. 

Of  his  own  free  will  he  had  offered  to  be  a  friend, 
and  she  had  accepted  the  offer,  should  she  ever  need 
one.  How  unhappy  he  was  !  He  had  every  honor 
that  station  can  covet,  everything  that  money  can 
buy,  a  world  at  his  feet ;  and  yet  the  one  woman,  in 
whose  smile  he  lived,  was  the  one  earthly  creature 
beyond  his  reach  whom  he  could  ever  hope  to  call 
his  own. 

He  went  into  the  library  and  sat  down  mechanic- 
ally at  his  Escritoire.  Some  letters  were  there  un- 
opened, and  one,  to  his  amazement,  addressed  to 


Marked  "In  Haste"  273 

Francois    Felden.     He    seized   it  with   avidity  and 
read  : 

"  MONSIEUR — If  you  are  at  liberty,  come  to  Avenue 
Matignon,  at  the  usual  hour,  to-morrow  (the  eleventh 
of  December).  I  have  been  daily  expecting  to  hear 
of  your  return,  and  half  fear  that  you  may  not  yet  be 
back.  I  shall  not  wait  for  you,  if  you  are  not  prompt. 
In  case  you  can  only  come  later,  come  direct  to  No. 
7  St.  Pere.  You  will  find  me  there.  In  haste, 
"  Votre  de'voue'e, 

"  ETHEL  LESLIE." 

The  envelope  was  sealed  with  black  wax,  and  the 
words  "  trcs  presse'e "  were  written  conspicuously 
near  the  name  addressed.  The  Earl's  heart  stood 
still.  Should  he  go  ?  To-day  was  the  eleventh,  and 
this  had  been  written  the  morni-ng  of  the  tenth. 
When  had  it  come  ?  He  rang  for  Bell.  The  valet 
explained  that  it  came  during  the  evening,  when  his 
lordship  was  out  ;  that  he  had"  intended  to  call  his 
attention  to  it,  but,  as  his  lordship  usually  went  into 
the  library  before  retiring,  he  supposed  he  would 
already  have  received  it. 

"Another  time,"  said  Beaufort,  sharply,  "put  all 
letters  on  my  dressing-table,  especially  when  marked 
"  in  haste."  Bell's  green  eyes  looked  mildly  curious. 
"  It  is  of  little  consequence,"  hastily  added  the  Earl, 
remembering  how  it  was  addressed,  and  fearing  to 
excite  suspicion,  "  but  be  more  careful  in  future. 
Where  is  Mr.  Brandon  ?  " 

"  In  his  room,  my  lord." 

"  Say  that  I  wish  to  speak  with  him'  at  once." 

Bell  withdrew.     In  a  moment  Athol  appeared. 


274  Marked  "fn  Haste" 

The  Earl  hurriedly  thrust  the  letter  into  his  hand. 

Brandon  read  and  looked  up  inquiringly.  "  Well  ?" 
he  said. 

"Well,"  replied  Beaufort,  "I  shall  go  to  the  ren- 
dez-vous." 

"  Are  you  mad  ?  " 

"Possibly." 

"  Can  I  persuade  you  not  to — 

"No,"  drily,  "you  can  persuade  me  in  no  way 
contrary  to  my  wishes.  Do  you  see  this  envel- 
ope ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  It  is  marked  " trls presste" 

"  Yes.     Well,  and  what  of  that  ? " 

"A  great  deal.  The  letters  I  found  on  the  eventful 
thirty-first  of  October  were  also  marked  'in  haste.' 
This  visit  will  be  the  turning  point  of  my  destiny.  I 
shall  go  again  to  the  Latin  Quarter,  and  for  the  last 
time.  This  evening  shall  decide  my  fate.  Do  not 
seek  to  hinder.  I  must  go  ! " 

"  Then,"  said  his  cousin,  firmly,    "  I  go  with  you." 

"That  is  impossible." 

"Well,  not  with  you,  but  I  shall  be  at  your  heels. 
I  claim  this  as  a  right.  I  shall  do  nothing' to  inter- 
fere with  you,  with  the  lady,  nor  with  your  plans, 
but  I  must  be  near.  Who  knows  what  may  hap- 
pen ! "  • 

The  Earl  was  terribly  excited.  He  calmed  him- 
self, or  tried  to,  and  succeeded  but  fairly.  He  even 
went  so  far  as  to  commence  telling  Brandon  of  their 
conversation  at  her  soiree,  his  and  Miss  Leslie's.  He 
stopped  almost  in  the  middle,  however.  It  was  im- 


Marked  "fu  Haste"  27$ 

possible  to  speak  of  her  and  speak  rationally.  His 
mind  was  in  chaos.  His  heart  beat,  and  his  pulse 
ran  up  to  fever  quickness. 

"  Can  one  realize,"  said  he  to  his  cousin,  "  that  six 
weeks  can  have  made  such  a  change  in  me  ?  I  am 
another  man  ;  I  am  a  different  human  being.  I  must 
assure  you  of  one  thing,  now,  and,  let  what  may 
happen  in  after  years,  remember  my  words  :  I  love 
Miss  Leslie.  Whatever  comes  of  it,  I  shall  never 
know  regret  One  must  love  once  in  a  lifetime,  and 
I  am  a  better  man,  now  that  I  have  loved  purely,  sin- 
cerely, and  honestly,  even  if  the  object  of  my  affec- 
tion be  for  ever  separated  from  me.  To  love,  and  be 
loved  in  turn,  must  be  the  acme  of  earthly  happiness, 
as  it  is  the  climax  of  earthly  satisfaction  to  look  back 
upon  a  sentiment  born  only  of  the  purest  germs. 
I  have  loved  her  without  interest,  without  calcula- 
tion, without  a  thought  of  any  thing  or  body  in  this 
world  but  herself,  and  for  herself  alone.  I  shall 
wear  one  image  in  my  heart ;  and  I  devote  my  fu- 
ture to  one  love  and  to  one  ideal.  I  cannot  think  ill 
of  her  ;  I  have  little  hope  that  she  will  ever  be  mine; 
and  yet,  none  other  shall  ever  have  my  name  or 
honor  in  her  custody.  My  beautiful  love  !  " 

"  In  all  this  raving,"  said  Brandon,  "  I  recognize 
one  fact.  You  are  certainly  in  love,  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  you  are  most  in  love  with  the  woman's  out- 
ward charms.  You  have  seen  very  little  of  her  in 
reality.  I  think  you  are  in  love  with  your  own  ideal. 
Because  Miss  Leslie's  life  is  enveloped  in  mystery, 
and  she  has  a  lovely  face,  you  have,  made  a  heroine 
of  her,  a  possible  victim,  and  your  probable  fate. 


276  Marked  "In  Haste" 

What  a  pity  she  is  not  plain  !  '  A  homely  woman," 
they  say,  '  has  more  moral  worth.'  Beauty  is  but  a 
fleeting  shadow,  and  yet,  I  suppose  we  are  all  at- 
tracted by  it." 

"  Permit  me,  if  I  presume  to  differ  with  you  when 
you  say  that  'beauty  is  a  fleeting  shadow."  Venus 
has  a  wider  and  more  enduring  fame  than  Jupiter, 
who  is  remembered  only  by  pedants  and  school-boys. 
So  much  for  Olympus.  On  this  dull  earth,  Laura 
is  as  well  known  as  Petrarch,  Leonora  as  Tasso, 
and  Beatrice  as  Dante.  For  the  truth  is,  beauty  is 
the  rarest  gift  of  Heaven,  and  therefore  is  immortal. 
You  say  I  love  only  her  beauty.  Well,  I  confess  that 
I  am  attracted  by  it,  but  now  that  you  know  the 
value  I  place  upon  beauty,  you  cannot  blame  me 
for  loving  that  which  I  consider  immortal.  Why  all 
of  this  talk  !  We  return  to  the  starting  point  each 
time,  and  now  I  am  only  anxious  to  speak  of  this 
evening.  It  is  already  late,  and  in  two  hours  I  shall 
be  at  her  house.  How  will  you  do  ?  Will  you  go 
directly  to  Rue  St.  Pere,  or  will  you  start  from 
Avenue  Matignon  ? " 

"  I  will  go  near  to  her  house,  and  keep  you  in  sight 
all  of  the  time.  Heaven  knows  how  much  I  wish 
this  day  ended." 

"  I  promise,"  said  Beaufort,  "  to  end  my  share  in 
this  mysterious  business  to-night.  I  cannot  tell  why 
I  have  such  a  strange  presentiment  of  ill.  This  let- 
ter seems  to  me  like  a  warning,  a  foreshadowing  of 
something  evil  to  be.  I  could  no  more  disobey  its 
mandate  than  I  can  now  tell  what  it  portends.  Yet, 
I  must  go.  What  is  to  be  will  be." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  277 

Brandon  half  laughed  : 

"  You  will  finish,"  he  said,  "  by  making  a  fatalist 
of  me.  It  is  a  most  comforting  belief,  as  one  may 
follow  any  vagary  or  caprice,  lay  it  to  the  door  of 
fate,  and  calmly  ignore  the  consequences  ;  place  the 
responsibility  on  destiny's  shoulders,  and  do  as  one 
pleases." 

The  Earl  looked  slightly  annoyed. 

"  You  are  at  liberty,"  he  said,  "  to  think  as  you 
please,  but  you  cannot  change  my  belief.  For  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  I  do  confess  it,  I  believe  in 
fate." 

"  And  I  believe  in  you.  I  will  never  desert  you, 
and  we  will  know  your  fate  together." 

The  valet  came  to  light  the  candles.  The  Earl 
shuddered. 

"  Why  on  earth  do  they  have  no  gas  in  Paris,  ex- 
cept in  ante-chambers,  kitchens,  and  sewers?  Fancy 
the  most  cheerful  light  in  the  world  being  considered 
vulgar,  because  old  women  wish  to  flatter  themselves 
that  they  are  still  young  and  look  better  with  the 
light  from  waxen  tapers  softening  the  features. 
When  I  am  in  a  bad  temper,  I  light  the  gas.  When 
I  am  in  doubt,  I  turn  on  the  gas.  When  I  come  in 
late  in  the  morning,  disgusted  with  the  whole  world, 
I  turn  up  the  gas.  When  I  do  not  know  what  in- 
vitations to  accept  first,  I  turn  on  the  gas.  When  I 
come  to  a  conclusion,  I  light  the  gas.  When  every- 
thing goes  wrong,  I  also  light  the  gas.  In  fact,  I 
hate  to  live  without  it.  What  can  be  more  distress- 
ing to  an  irritable  man  than  the  soft,  hypocritical 
light  of  sputtering  candles  ?  Just  as  one  gets  used 


278  Marked  "/«  Haste." 

to  them  they  die  out,  and  the  only  satisfaction  is  a 
giggling,  gurgling  wick,  and  a  grease  spot  on  one's 
swallow-tail,  and  a  shadow  like  an  Irishman's  curse. 
I  do  not  wonder  that  even  the  twelve  virgins  had 
lamps." 

Brandon  laughed. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you  about  the  candles.  The 
light  is  softer  and  prettier,  no  doubt,  but  there  is 
tremendous  satisfaction  in  turning  a  tiny  key  and 
seeing  a  beautiful  flame  burst  forth,  seemingly  from 
nothing.  One  is  so  used  to  it  that  one  never  realizes 
the  great  benefit  of  gas  to  the  civilized  world. 

We "  He  was  interrupted.  There  was  a  tap  at 

the  door.  Bell  stood  before  them  :  "  My  lord  dines 
at  home  this  evening?  " 

Beaufort  started  and  looked  at  his  cousin.  As 
their  eyes  met,  a  rapid  glance  of  intelligence  flashed 
between  them. 

"  No,"  said  the  Earl,  and  the  valet  retired.  Beau- 
fort understood  that  he  must  prepare  himself  for  his 
visit.  He  went  to  his  room  and  changed  his  dress. 
He  put  a  foulard  in  his  pocket,  and  with  it  his 
smoked  glasses.  He  put  on  an  overcoat,  and  by 
chance  it  was  the  one  he  had  worn  the  night  of  the 
dinner  at  the  Cafe  Anglais.  He  had  to  go  to  the 
coiffeur  of  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  as  he  did  not  have  time 
to  send  for  him  to  come  to  the  hotel.  As  he  started 
out,  it  was  already  quite  dark.  Brandon  accompa- 
nied him.  They  were  to  dine  at  some  little  restau- 
rant, he  was  to  go  to  Miss  Leslie's,  and  his  cousin 
was  to  follow  at  a  reasonable  distance. 

At  half-past  seven,  he  stood  at  the  door  of  the 


Marked  "In  Haste"  279 

ladies'  house.  Just  six  weeks  ago  he  had  been  there, 
ringing  at  the  same  bell,  and  how  things,  although 
changed,  were  still  the  same.  He  went  into  the 
boudoir,  and  a  pleased  look  came  into  Miss  Leslie's 
eyes.  She  spoke  briefly  : 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come.  Thanks  for  your 
promptness.  Let  us  go  away  at  once." 

As  they  descended  the  stair  the  light  from  the 
lamp  flared  full  in  her  face.  He  was  struck  by  its 
dejected  air  and  terrible  paleness.  Her  eyes  seemed 
heavy,  as  from  recent  weeping.  She  was  as  beauti- 
ful as  ever,  but  it  was  a  sad  loveliness.  It  was  not 
the  brilliant  belle  of  the  night  before  who  now  stood 
beside  him. 

In  silence  they  left  the  house  and  wended  their 
way  to  the  Latin  Quarter.  As  they  passed  along 
the  street  he  noticed  a  coupe"  with  two  horses  pass- 
ing them.  It  had  been  stationed  in  avenue  Matig- 
non  opposite  her  house,  and  the  Earl  doubted  not 
that  it  was  Brandon's.  His  heart  smote  him  as  they 
drove  on.  They  were  indeed  engaged  in  a  curious 
adventure.  Love  !  what  extraordinary  deeds  are 
done  in  thy  name  ! 

Miss  Leslie  sat  back  in  her  carriage  in  her  usual 
way.  She  never  spoke  until  they  were  well  started, 
when,  without  the  slightest  warning,  she  said  : 

"  I  hope  you  found  your  brother  better  ?  " 

The  Earl  started.     He  was  staggered. 

"  Better  ?     I  do  not  understand  !  " 

"  Or  perhaps  it  was  not  your  brother.  Did  you 
not  write  me  that  one  of  your  family  being  ill,  you 
were  going  to  Russia  ?  " 


280  Marked  "In  Haste." 

Great  Heaven  !  He  had  entirely  forgotten  their 
former  positions,  and  his  letter  of  excuse. 

To  himself  he  said,  "I  am  a  consummate  ass." 
To  her  : 

"  Mille  pardons.  He  is  better.  It  was  not  my 
brother,  but  my  uncle,  my  only  uncle,  who  was  ill  ; 
he  is  better,  thank  God  !  Thanks  to  madame  for  re- 
membering, and — and  if  madame  did  not  mind  ex- 
plaining, how  did  it  happen  that  she  had  heard  of 
my  return  to  Paris  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  hear.  I  thought  it  was  about  time  that 
you  were  back.  I  ventured  to  send  the  letter  ;  also, 
you  must  have  expected  to  hear  from  me  in  any 
case." 

"  Expect  to  hear  from  her  ! "  What  would  those 
words  mean  ?  Oh,  yes.  It  was  her  delicate  way  of 
saying  that  she  had  not  forgotten  to  pay  him.  That 
was  the  last  straw.  He  reddened  with  a  great  shame, 
but  night  hid  his  blushes.  Money,  and  from  her ! 
It  had  come  to  that.  Naturally,  when  one  does  a 
hireling's  work,  one  receives  a  hireling's  wages.  He 
felt  as  Don  Saluste  must  have  felt  when  denounced 
by  Ruy  Bias  :  "  I  wear  the  garments  of  a  slave,  but 
thou,  thou,  has  the  soul."  Beaufort  said  to  himself, 
"/wear  the  garments,  and  I  have  also  the  soul." 

She  spoke  no  more.  They  reached  Rue  St.  Pere 
and  left  the  carriage,  then  turned  into  the  Passage. 
As  before,  they  rang  at  No.  7.  They  went  to  the 
attic  chamber,  and  she  entered  without  knocking. 
He  seated  himself  in  the  old  fauteuil,  when  she  said  : 

"•I  may  need  you  at  any  moment.     Be  ready." 

He  bowed  in  acquiescence.     He  knew  Brandon 


Marked  "In  Haste"  281 

was  in  the  street,  and  that  he  had  followed  them 
there.  It  had  been  determined  upon  between  them 
that,  when  a  certain  length  of  time  had  passed,  he 
should  wait  no  longer,  as  all  was  well,  but  return  to 
Rue  Bassano  to  await  him  at  home.  Beaufort  had 
promised  to  relate  all  that  which  transpired,  and  he 
would  keep  his  word.  He  had  been  seated  ten  min- 
utes, perhaps  fifteen,  when  he  heard  the  name,  "Pel- 
den,"  and  "  come  at  once,"  called  through  the  open 
door.  He  rose  "precipitately  and  went  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

FAREWELL    FOR    EVER. 

HE  found  himself  in  a  vaulted  apartment  with 
quaint  wainscotting  and  massive  oak  beams  running 
across  the  ceiling.  In  niches,  in  out-of-the-way  places, 
were  pedestals  with  saints  and  various  statuettes 
gleaming  down.  The  room  was  richly  furnished 
and  resembled  a  chamber  of  an  old  palace,  as  do 
many  of  the  ancient  houses  in  the  part  of  Paris. 
The  exteriors  are  absolutely  belying. 

Upon  a  bed  lay  a  young  man — the  dark -haired 
youth  whom  he  had  once  before  seen.  He  was  ill, 
and  evidently  dangerously  so.  Miss  Leslie's  face 
was  set  with  a  fixed  despair  that  cut  into  the  Earl's 
heart.  As  he  approached,  the  invalid  started.  In  the 
delirium  of  fever  he  raged.  "  Hold  him ! "  said  she, 
faintly  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Beaufort  went  straight  to  the  bed,  without  a  word. 
How  little" had  he  expected  this  !  The  invalid  became 
more  furious.  His  eyes  glared,  his  laugh  alternated 
with  tears,  and  his  movements  still  indicated  strength. 
No  woman  could  have  held  him.  A  stout  sick-nurse 
came  from  an  inner  room,  and  looked  as  if  offering 
aid,  but  Miss  Leslie  motioned  her  away.  Beaufort 


Marked  "In  Haste."  283 

had  not  before  noticed  that  there  was  another  room 
adjoining  this  apartment.  v 

The  youth,  for  he  seemed  very  young,  was  a  beauti- 
ful sight  to  look  upon.  His  dark  hair  hung  in  rings 
close  to  his  damp  forehead  ;  his  head,  which  Anti- 
nous  might  have  envied,  lay  upon  the  fine  pillow,  a 
model  of  classic  form.  His  eyes,  in  whose  depths 
no  gleam  of  consciousness  came,  were  as  blue  as 
cerulean  skies,  and  the  mouth,  which  quivered  with 
eager  speech,  was  sweetly  curved  like  that  of  a  child. 
He  raised  himself  in  the  bed. 

"  Tell  them,"  eagerly,  "  that  I  never  did  it !  That 
is,  it  was  a  mistake.  Look,  he  has  fallen  over  the 
hedge  !  My  God  !  "  covering  his  eyes,  "  he  is  fall- 
ing down,  down,  and  I  have  killed  him  ! "  His  voice 
rose  to  a  shriek,  and  Beaufort  held  his  breath. 

"  This  "  said  he,  "  is  the  secret.  A  murderer — and 
those  white  hands  are  stained  with  blood."  A  sick- 
ening sensation  came  over  him.  Up  to  that  day 
he  had  never  touched  the  hand  of  any  criminal. 
To-night  he  was  by  the  bedside  of  one,  and  was  in 
love  with — Oh,  horror !  whither  had  his  mad  passion 
led  him  ?  Was  this  the  result  of  honest  loving  ?  How 
would  it  end  ?  He  was  now  a  co-partner  in  guilt,  in 
crime,  as  he  once  had  feared. 

"Tell  them,"  continued  the  voice,  "that  time  sets 
all  things  even.  The  night  was  fair,  the  moon  smiled 
upon  me,  and  in  the  hurry  and  scuffle  the  fatal  deed 
was  done."  He  stopped  and  seized  Beaufort's  hand, 
and  his  tone  was  more  confidential. 

"We  left  together.  She,"  looking  at  Ethel,  "has 
been  true.  No  woman  could  have  been  truer."  The 


284  Marked  "/«  Haste." 

Earl  gasped,  as  if  he  had  heard  something  like  this 
before.  The  invalid  continued  : 

"We  took  to  the  boats,  and  I  screamed  for  joy  when 
we  reached  Paris.  They  can  never  find  me  here,  and 
when  they  do  I  shall  be  beyond  their  reach." 

"  Poor  Harry  !  indeed  beyond  their  reach,"  said 
Miss  Leslie  as  she  looked  up.  "  I  cannot  bear  it," 
she  murmured.  "  Go.  I  will  call  you  in  a  moment  ; 
he  is  getting  quieter.  He  but  raves.  I  pray  you 
think  nothing  of  what  he  says.  Who  could  attach 
importance  to  the  words  of  a  madman  ?  " 

"Who,  indeed?"  said  Beaufort;  and  relinquish- 
ing his  hand,  he  left  the  room. 

His  mind  was  now  made  up.  The  great  love  he 
bore  this  woman  required  some  sacrifice  at  his 
hands.  No  matter  what  came  of  it,  he  was  ready  to 
redeem  his  promise  of  being  her  friend.  A  thousand 
wild  imaginings  tore  through  his  brain.  What  a 
position  for  a  young  woman  ;  what  a  scene  to  assist 
at ;  and  what  if  the  young  man  should  die  ! 

This  last  seemed  too  horrible.  No — Fate  could 
not  be  so  unkind.  Visions  of  the  ceremony  attend- 
ing a  death  in  Paris  came  up  before  him.  He  saw 
the  officers  of  the  law  coming  forward  ;  he  saw  the 
seals  put  upon  the  dead  man's  effects  ;  he  imagined 
them  both  arrested  for  helping  to  conceal  a  mur- 
derer, and  his  blood  ran  cold.  A  murderer,  a  fugi- 
tive from  justice  !  above  all — horrid  thought ! — the 
paramour  of  the  woman  he  loved  !  He,  the  Earl  of 
Beaufort,  in  such  a  position  !  The  scandal,  the  out- 
cry !  Oh,  what  had  he  done,  and  all  for  love  !  Love  ? 
Yes,  and  the  one  he  loved,  what  of  her  ? 


Marked  "fti  Haste"  285 

Alas  !  he  knew  nothing.  Was  she  also  implicated  ? 
Had  her  violet  eyes  shone  with  the  assassin's  gleam  ? 
Were  her  fair,  shapely  hands  crimsoned  with  blood  ? 
Where  was  he  ?  What  was  happening  ?  He  was 
going  mad  himself.  Yes,  that  was  it.  These  sleep- 
less nights,  this  daily  torture,  this  mad  love  for  a 
woman  who  led  a  double  life,  were  already  telling  on 
his  brain.  He  had  one  gleam  of  reason  left.  He 
sank  into  the  old  fauteuil,  and  tore  off  the  glasses. 
Never  more  should  his  eyes  be  hidden  from  the 
world  ;  he  dug  off  the  false  beard  that  the  Rue  St. 
Honore  coiffeur  had  so  naturally  put  on.  He  wiped 
his  face  with  the  foulard  ;  he  threw  back  his  hair ; 
he  held  his  head  erect  and  felt  once  more  his  old  self. 
He  had  done  for  ever  with  playing  the  spy.  He  was 
bound  in  honor  not  to  betray  the  woman  he  loved. 
Her  shame  was  now  his  ;  in  her  crime  he  also  was  an 
accomplice.  He  would  do  anything,  be  the  friend  he 
had  promised,  but  in  his  own  proper  person.  She 
should  know  all :  who  Felden  really  was,  and  how  an 
Earl  of  Beaufort  had  happened  to  play  such  a  role. 

He  thought  of  last  night.  Last  night !  ah,  that 
seemed  years  ago !  He  saw  the  ball-room,  and  the 
fair  forms  flitting  back  and  forth  in  the  maze  of  the 
dance.  He  saw  the  glittering  favors  of  the  "german," 
and  a  beautiful  face,  the  fairest  of  all,  shining  amidst 
the  throng  as  does  that  of  the  evening  star  amongst 
the  firmament's  lesser  lights  ;  he  saw  the  lace-robed 
form  standing  against  the  background  of  flowers  in 
the  conservatory  ;  he  remembered  their  conversa- 
tion and  their  talk  about  the  picture.  Yes,  this  was 
the  loved  one  ;  she  had  spoken  truly. 


286  Marked  "In  Haste." 

Strange  to  say,  he  could  not  think  of  her  as  sad. 
The  contrast  was  only  greater  to-night.  They  were 
again  in  the  ball-room.  Her  head  half  sank  on  his 
shoulder,  her  hands  held  a  knot  of  gaily  colored 
ribbons  fastened  in  a  rosette  with  a  shimmering  star. 
She  had  pinned  the  knot  on  his  breast,  and  he  was 
the  chosen  knight.  Oh,  the  farce  of  these  germans ! 
Who  invented  them  ?  What  sorrow  is  sometimes 
reaped  from  one  hour's  forgetfulness  and  seemingly 
innocent  pleasure !  In  spite  of  all  that  he  had  heard, 
he  loved  her.  Each  moment  passed  in  her  society 
was  a  delirious  joy,  all  the  more  intoxicating  because 
fleeting.  He  knew  it  could  not  last,  and  yet  he  had 
sworn  to  be  a  friend  ;  that  was  ridiculous.  He  would 
be  that,  but  he  would  also  be— 

Hark,  again  a  voice.  "  Felden,  Felden  !  "  He 
started  and  entered  the  room.  Miss  Leslie  was  near 
the  bed,  and  the  invalid  was  again  raving.  He 
glared  more  wildly,  yet  his  voice  was  weaker. 

The  fever  was  spending  itself.  Beaufort  could  not 
tell  why,  but  he  felt  almost  in  the  presence  of  the 
great  destroyer.  He  looked  intently  at  the  poor 
victim,  when  Miss  Leslie,  catching  sight  of  him, 
shrieked  : 

"  Lord  Beaufort !  How  came  you  here  ?  What 
must  you  think  of  me?  Where,  where, — "  wildly,  "  is 
my  attendant,  Felden  ?  How  did  you  get  in  ?  Did 
he  show  you  up  ?  Speak  !  " 

Beaufort  hesitated.  He  had  forgotten  that  he  was 
no  longer  disguised,  and  she  still  suspected  nothing. 
It  would  be  cruel  to  tell  her  the  real  facts  then. 
Another  time  he  might.  At  present  he  would  only 


Marked  "In  Haste."  287 

fabricate  some  plausible  explanation — which  he  did. 
In  his  heart  he  was  glad  that  she  did  not  even  dream 
the  real  truth.  He  would  not  have  had  the  courage 
to  face  her  questioning,  her  scorn,  perhaps.  Unwit- 
tingly^ fate  had  befriended  him. 

"  I  came  over  in  this  quarter  to  see  a  friend,  a 
young  student.  I  saw  your  carriage  and  recognized 
the  coachman.  I  asked  him  what  his  presence  in  this 
quarter  meant,  and  he  told  me.  He  said  that  he 
feared  some  harm  had  befallen  his  mistress.  Follow- 
ing his  directions,  here  I  am.  I  met  a  man  on  the 
stairs  excitedly  going  away.  Perhaps  he  was  your 
attendant.  Can  I  serve  you  ? " 

"Oh,  my  lord,  what  must  you  think  of  this  ?  Let 
me  tell  you— 

"  Spare  yourself,"  he  said,  sadly.     "  I  know  all." 

She  looked  at  him  as  one  stupefied.  "  You  know 
all  ? "  she  repeated  ;  "  how,  when,  where,  did  you 
learn  ? " 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  you,-"  he  said,  "  but,  be  as- 
sured, you  are  safe  in  my  hands.  I  know  all." 

The  nurse  came  into  the  room.  She  held  the  in- 
valid with  her  strong  hands,  while  Miss  Leslie  still 
spoke  with  his  lordship. 

A  bright  light  came  into  her  face.  "  Oh,"  re- 
proachfully to  herself,  "  had  I  -but  confided  in  you  ! 
I  remember  you  promised  to  be  my  friend.  Do  you 
still  respect  that  promise  ?  " 

"  I  am  at  your  command,"  he  said,  simply. 

Then  together  they  went  to  the  bedside  of  the  dy- 
ing man  ;  for  he  was  dying,  no  power  on  earth  could 
save  him.  The  breath  came  in  gasps  ;  the  muttered 


288  Marked  "In  Haste" 

ravings  fell  on  the  hushed  air  like  the  moans  of  a  lost 
soul.  The  blue  eyes  gleamed  with  supernatural 
light  ;  the  sweet  lips  opened  and  closed  as  does  a 
flower  kissed  by  the  night-wind, 

A  moment  came  when  reason  seemed  to  reassert 
herself.  He  called  :  "  Ethel  !  Ethel,  my  love  !  " 

"Yes,  Harry;  yes,  darling!" 

"  Ethel,  let  us  pray  together.  Where  is  mother  ? 
There  !  Yes,  yes,  she  comes  toward  me  !  Her  hands 
have  a  crown,  and  her  raiment  floats  about  her  like 
a  summer  cloud.  And  you,"  turning  to  Beaufort,  "  do 
you  forgive  me  ?  God  alone  knows  what  I  have  suf- 
fered." 

The  Earl  shuddered.  Was  this  a  deathbed  of 
crime  ?  Was  this  an  eleventh  hour  repentance,  than 
which  a  lifetime  of  purity  had  less  hope  of  seeing 
the  throne  of  grace.  He  could  scarcely  command 
his  voice,  yet  he  answered  : 

"  I  forgive  you,  as — as  I  hope  to  be  forgiven." 

Then  the  invalid  commenced  a  prayer  : 

"  Oh,  Father,  look  down  this  night  and  receive 
my  waiting  spirit.  I  pray  Thee,  forgive  all  who  lan- 
guish in  misery,  in  prison,  who  have  committed 
crime,  or  who  bear  the  weight  of  others'  sins.  I  for- 
give all  who  have  wronged  and  persecuted  me.  I 
pray  Thee  to  bear  kindly  with  them.  My  life  has  been 
a  mistake  ;  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  I  have  been 
marked  with  nothing  but  misfortune.  Bless  my  true 
love,  my  darling  Ethel,  my  companion  in  life  and  exile ; 
father,  mother,  sister,  brother,  everything ;  bless — 

The  voice  ceased,  and  only  Ethel's  sobs  could 
be  heard.  . 


Marked  "In  Haste"  289 

She  bowed  her  head  on  his  hand.  The  tears  filled 
her  eyes.  She  clung  to  Beaufort.  "Look,"  said  she, 
quickly,  "  he  is  going.  Hold  him,  hold  him  fast. 
You  are  a  true  friend.  If  he  must  die  let  him  die  in 
your  arms." 

The  Earl  could  scarcely  realize  the  situation.  It 
was  indeed  unique.  The  ardent  lover  of  a  woman 
holding  the  man  she  adored,  that  he  might  die  in 
his  arms.  It  was  too  painful.  Oh,  had  she  asked  a 
lesser  sacrifice  !  He  never  flinched,  however,  but 
drew  nearer  the  poor  sufferer,  to  do  her  bidding. 

"  So  ? "  said  he,  softly. 

"So,"  she  answered,  and  the  raven  curls  were  pil- 
lowed on  Beaufort's  breast.  The  invalid  smiled 
gratefully  and  seized  his  hand.  "  I  am  forgiven," 
he  murmured,  "  I  can  now  die.  But  I  was  praying  ; 
let  us  finish.  Bless  all  who  love  and  hate  me,  and 
those — those  who  are  here  this  night.  Oh,  that  my 
vindication  had  come  below.  Yet  I  bow  to  Thy 
will.  See  !  the  heavens  are  ablaze  with  light !  I  am 
in  the  garden  where  we  played  as  children,  and  I 
read  strange  figures  in  the  sky.  We  walk  over  a- 
marsh  where  odorless  flowers  bloom  with  seductive 
beauty.  You  leave  me — Ethel,  don't  go." 

"No,  dear,  I  am  with  you  !" 

"  No,  no,  I  am  alone.  The  sky  grows  heavy  with 
clouds — red,  yellow,  crimson,  and  blue.  A  great  rift 
appears.  A  bird  comes  with  an  olive  branch.  I 
must  take  it,"  struggling,  "there  is  a  crown,  and  it 
is  mine.  I  am  coming!  Yes,  forgiven.  Ethel,  Ethel 
—ah  ! " 

The   head   droops.      The   white    hands    are   out- 
13 


2QO  Marked  "In  Haste." 

stretched,  and  the  angel  has  placed  the  crown  on  the 
repentant's  brow.  At  that  moment,  the  shutter  to  a 
window  blew  open.  The  imprisoned  moon,  which 
had  been  covered,  burst  forth  from  the  clouds  with 
the  majesty  of  an  emancipated  soul.  The  room  was 
flooded  with  radiance.  In  the  Earl's  arms  lay  the  dead 
man,  at  his  feet  knelt  a  fair  woman.  Her  hair  un- 
bound streamed  over  her  shoulders,  her  clasped  hands 
were  folded  on  her  breast,  her  eyes  were  dried  in  the 
bitter  salt  of  unshed  tears.  Her  pale  face  was  the 
picture  of  despair,  but  she  spoke  not.  The  Earl  was 
a  still  more  striking  picture.  He  was  moved  as  are 
strong  men,  and  a  tear  trembled  on  his  lashes. 
"He  is  gone,"  he  said,  gently.  "And — and  I  hope 
Heaven  has  received  his  soul." 

Then  the  moonlight  came  brighter  and  brighter 
into  the  room.  It  was  a  peaceful  token,  and  it  shone 
lovingly  on  those  two.  Miss  Leslie  arose  noise- 
lessly and  disengaged  the  dead  man's  hand  from 
that  of  Beaufort.  She  placed  the  poor  head  on  the 
pillow,  and  the  Earl  was  free.  The  awful  scene 
through  which  they  had  passed  had  brought  them 
nearer  together. 

"  I  cannot  understand  one  thing,"  said  the  Earl. 
"  How  could  you  have  danced  last  night,  and  a  loved 
one  at  death's  door  ?  Where,  where  is  Mrs.  Adrian  ?" 

Miss  Leslie  grew  calm.  "  Yesterday  he  was  out  of 
danger.  Aunt  has  been  here  all  of  the  morning,  and 
you  know  how  little  we  must  have  dreamed  of  this 
sudden  change.  We  thought  of  postponing  the  soi- 
ree, but  how  was  it  possible  ?  So  many  questions 
to  ask,  and  none  could  be  answered  satisfactorily. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  291 

His  presence  here  has  been  a  profound  secret,  and 
his  illness  is  of  so  recent  a  date  that  we  could  illy 
divine  so  rapid  a  change  for  the  worse.  I  do  not 
know  how  I  have  lived  all  of  these  days,  hourly 
expecting  the  officers  of  the  law,  never  coming  here 
but  in  deadly  fear  that  in  the  meantime  he  had  been 
discovered.  Now,  all  is  over  ;  I  have  only  the  con- 
sciousness that  I  have  done  my  duty.  But,  alas  !  a" 
terrible  one  now  remains  to  be  performed." 

The  Earl  looked  her  full  in  the  face  .  "  Was  there 
— crime  ?  " 

"  You  said  you  knew  all,"  wonderingly. 

"  Yes,  you  are  right.  I  should  not  have  asked  the 
question  ;  pray  forgive  me." 

"  You  are  forgiven." 

They  went  to  the  window.  The  night  had  not  worn 
away,  and  here  and  there  the  stars  dotted  the  vault  of 
heaven  with  their  soft  silver  lights.  The  moon  sailed 
on  in  calm  serenity.  One  earthly  fire  was  quenched, 
but  the  world  moved  on  the  same.  They  looked  out 
on  Paris.  In  the  distance  was  the  dome  of  the  Inva- 
lides,  farther  away  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame,  to 
the  right  and  left  a  number  of  world-famous  struc- 
tures. The  view  was  magnificent,  as,  from  their  ex- 
traordinary height,  they  dominated  the  city.  In  the 
rear  of  No.  7  was  a  large  garden,  seemingly  a  park. 
It  belonged  to  a  monastery  where  a  religious  order 
lived.  Already  the  dark-robed  priests  were  saying 
Ave's,  and  at  that  very  moment  a  procession  passed 
under  a  lime-walk  toward  a  chapel  at  the  foot  of  the 
garden.  They  bore  missals  and  candles,  their  heads 
were  bowed,  and  in  solemn  order  they  went  to  their 


292  Marked  "In  Haste.'' 

night's  devotions.  They  were  to  replace  others  of 
"  The  Perpetual  Adoration  Society "  still  praying. 
Behind  them  followed  a  confused  number  of  laymen 
and  other  priests.  What  could  it  mean  ?  One  bore 
aloft  the  sacred  Host,  with  a  canppy  which  stirred 
as  it  reached  the  lower  branch  of  a  tree.  A  large 
white  cross  swayed  back  and  forth  in  the  half-pal- 
sied hand  of  an  old  monk,  and  Beaufort  started. 

"  See,"  said  he,  "some  one  has  died  in  the  monas- 
tery. Their  prayers  will  reach  heaven  before  ours, 
and  holy  angels  will  keep  watch  over  your  now-hal- 
lowed dead."  He  bowed  reverently  as  he  spoke, 
while  Ethel  covered  her  face  with  her.  hands.  When 
the  procession  had  passed,  he  glanced  toward  her  : 

"I  do  not  forget  the  solemnity  of  this  hour,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  must  speak  with  you.  I  beg  you  will 
hear  me." 

She  looked  at  him  and  acquiesced,  faintly. 

"  What  I  have  to  say,"  he  began,  "  may  just  now 
seem  out  of  place.  I  pray  you  forgive  me,  but  I 
have  long  wished  to  tell  you  something.  You  must 
have  divined  it.  That  I  love  you  with  my  whole 
soul ;  that  without  you  and  your  smile  I  do  not  care 
to  live.  I  ask  nothing  of  your  past,  it  is  sacred  in 
my  eyes.  Do  not  think  me  ungentlemanly,  but  in 
this  solemn  hour  receive  the  assurance  of  my  love, 
fidelity,  and  eternal  devotion.  I  swear  to  be  all  to 
you  that  you  have  lost,  to  make  you  forget  every 
hour  of  unhappiness  that  you  have  ever  known.  I 
swear  this  in  the  presence  of  him  you  once  so  dearly 
loved,  and  as  your  life  has  been  dedicated  to  him,  so 
mine  shall  now  be  dedicated  to  you.  Tell  me  one 


Marked  "In  Haste"  293 

thing  :  You  are  free  ?  Will  you  be  my  wife  ?  Will 
you,  can  you  forget  him  ?  " 

She  started  as  if  stung.  "  At  such  a  time,  my  lord, 
this  proposal  is  most  unseemly.  Forget  him,  never." 
Her  voice  rang  with  strange  depth,  and  her  tones 
struck  him  with  a  foreboding  of  ill.  He  looked 
anxiously. 

"  You  will  never  forget  him.  I  mean,  you  will  in 
time  learn  to  think  less  of  him." 

"Think  less  of  him?  Never!"  she  said.  "His 
image  can  never  be  effaced  from  my  heart.  Why  do 
you  ask  this  ?  I  have  been  his  all.  Why  should  I 
forget  him  ?  His  misfortunes,  perhaps ;  himself, 
never" 

"  You  are  now  free  ?  " 

"  No,"  solemnly,  "  I  am  not  free.  I  have  conse- 
crated a  vow  to  his  memory  which  must  be  fulfilled. 
Until  that  is  accomplished  I  shall  never  be  free.  I 
cannot  neglect  my  duty.  My  affection  for  him  re- 
mains unchanged,  and  will  while  time  lasts." 

A  light  seemed  to  break  upon  him.  The  words 
"duty,"  "vow,"  "affection,"  took  a  new  meaning. 
Perhaps,  oh,  perhaps  she  had  acted  thus  only  from  a 
mistaken  sense  of  honor.  If  that  were  all,  he  would 
yet  win  her.  He  fell  upon  his  knees  at  her  feet  and 
looked  at  her  with  rarest  pleading. 

"Listen,"  he  said  again,  "to  one  thing.  Forget 
this  night,  forget  where  we  are,  forget  all  that  has 
happened.  Imagine  that  we  are  in  the  gardens  at 
Ferrieres.  Let  me  say  that  which  my  heart  then  dic- 
tated, and  answer  me  truly.  Do  you  love  me  ? " 

He  seized  her   hand,   he  drew  her   toward   him  ; 


294  Marked  "In  Haste" 

he  looked  into  her  eyes.  Her  face  flushed,  then 
paled.  A-  great  despair  came  over  her  as  she  an- 
swered: 

"  God  help  me,  I  do  !  I  think  that  I  have  always 
loved  you." 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  XOWT  that  you  are  free,  we  will 
leave  Paris.  We  will  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
when  and  where  you  will.  We  will  forget  this  night ; 
you  will  be  happy  once  more.  No  more  mystery, 
no  more  hiding,  and  I  will  help  you  to  keep  a  secret 
that  shall  never  see  the  light  of  day.  Oh,  say  again 
that  you  love  me." 

"Yes,  I  love  you,  but — but  I  cannot  be  yours." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  You  say  you  love  me,  yet 
you  refuse  to  be  mine  now  that  you  are  free  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  refuse  ! " 

That  was  too  much.  He  started  up ;  he  raged 
like  a  madman  :  "  No  !  I  refuse  !  If  you  love  me, 
that  is  enough.  Nothing  can  excuse  such  obstinacy 
and  heartlessness.  You  may  never  know  how  I  have 
loved  you.  You  say  that  you  have  always  loved  me  ; 
perhaps  that  may  excuse  your  double  dealing  in 
your  own  eyes,  but  it  never  can  in  mine.  I  come  of 
a  race  that  have  never  known  dishonor.  I  offer  to 
shield  you  with  my  name  and  my  love ;  I  offer  all 
that  man  can  offer,  and  you  refuse  it.  I  cannot  un- 
derstand women.  I  can  do  no  more.  Yes,  I  can.  I 
once  proffered  my  friendship.  If  you  loved  me, 
why  did  you  not  confide  in  me  ?  I  do  not  withdraw 
that.  It  is  yours  to  call  upon  now  if  you  need  it. 
My  love  you  have,  but  I  cannot  consent  to  be  the 
plaything  of  a  woman  who  is  all  contradiction.  If 


Marked  "In  Haste"  295 

you  really  care  for  me  so  much  the  better.  You  may 
know  something  of  what  I  suffer.  Farewell  for  ever  ! 
Should " 

She  looked  at  him  in  horror,  pointing  to  the  bier. 

"Respect  the  dead,"  she  said,  "and  leave  me. 
Cease  your  raving.  I  cannot  think  so  little  of  my- 
self as  to  accept  your  love  at  such  a  time  as  this.  We 
may  never  meet  again.  I  forgive  your  passionate 
words,  because — I  do  love  you.  I  will  never  willingly 
see  you  again  ;  certainly  not  until  my  vow  has  been 
accomplished,  but  take  away  with  you  a  truthful  re- 
membrance of  me.  I  have  been  guilty  of  all  you 
say — double  dealing,  perhaps,  but  I  come  of  as  proud 
a  race  a  you,  too  proud  to  ever  forfeit  my  word. 
Before  the  face  of  my  dead " 

"  Do  not  speak  his  name,"  he  said,  faintly.  "  It  is 
he  who  still  comes  between  us.  You  are  right. 
This  is  no  time.  God  forgive  me,  and  help  us  both. 
Farewell,  farewell  for  ever  !  " 

He  left  the  room,  but  turning,  said  :  "  I  cannot 
leave  you  alone  here,  can  I  serve  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  leave  me,  but  go  to  my  aunt  and  send  her 
to  me.  Farewell ! "  she  looked  at  him  with  one 
long,  lingering  glance,  "farewell,  if  we  never  meet 
again.  Let  us  part  friends." 

Springing  forward,  he  threw  his  arms  around  her, 
he  kissed  her  face,  her  hair,  her  small  hands,  and 
yet  again  her  lovely  features  ;  one  long,  last  kiss,  then 
he  staggered  away  drunk  with  despair  and  passion. 

"  Farewell,  I  can  never  forget  you  ! " 

He  went  forth  into  the  night.  He  dragged  his 
coat  from  the  chair  where  he  had  left  it,  and  hastily 


296  Marked  "In  Haste" 

put  it  on.  His  brain  was  throbbing,  his  brow  wet 
with  great  drops  of  perspiration.  He  hastily  de- 
scended the  stairs,  taking  at  the  time  something  into 
his  hand.  It  was  a  handkerchief.  He  wiped  his 
brow  with  the  fine  linen,  and  as  he  did  so,  he  inhaled 
the  faint  odor  of  jasmin  and  dead  champagne.  By 
a  strange  chance  his  valet  had  never  taken  the  hand- 
kerchief from  his  pocket  after  the  dinner  at  the 
Cafe  Anglais.  The  remembrance  of  that  night  came 
back  to  him — Allani's  emotion,  and  his  thinking  at 
the  time  that  the  spilling  of  the  wine  in  his  face  was 
a  bad  omen.  As  the  sickening  scent  clung  to  him,  a 
light  seemed  to  break  upon  him  : 

"The  world  is  called  great,  but  it  is  really  small. 
My  presentiment  of  misfortune  was  not  amiss.  We 
have  both  loved  the  same  woman."  Again  he 
touched  the-  handkerchief :  "  Oh,  the  smell  of  that 
jasmin  flower ! 

"  It  smelt  so  faint,  and  it  smelt  so  sweet, 
It  made  me  creep,  and  it  made  me  cold ; 
Like  the  scent  that  steals  from  the  crumbling-sheet 
When  a  mummy  is  half  unroll'd." 

He  found  Athol  still  waiting.  The  Earl  stepped 
into  his  brougham,  but  made  no  explanation  of  what 
had  taken  place.  He  only  said  briefly  : 

"  We  must  go  to  Avenue  Matignon." 

They  drove  like  mad  to  Miss  Leslie's  house,  the 
Earl  rang  at  the  porte-cochere  and  sprang  up  the 
flight  of  steps  to  the  first  landing.  He  asked  to  see 
Mrs.  Adrian,  and  disregarding  the  footman's  stares, 
he  went  into  the  house. 


Marked  "In  Haste"  297 

In  a  moment  the  lady  came  in.  She  was  surprised 
to  see  him,  but  quickly  comprehended  that  some 
matter  of  great  moment  had  taken  place. 

"  Go  at  once  to  your  niece,"  said  he,  "  she  awaits 
you  at  7  Passage  St.  Pere.  Sad  news  is  in  store, 
but  Miss  Leslie  will  explain  all  to  you,  even  my 
presence  here  to-night.  Take  my  carriage^  ,God 
speed  you,  and  farewell.  If  I  can  be  of  any  service, 
address  me  through  my  solicitors,  Harkness  &  Hark- 
ness,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  London,  or^at  Coult's 
Bank.  Adieu,  and  courage  ! " 

When  he  returned  to  his  cousin,  he  explained  in  a 
few  words  that  Brandon  was  to  accompany  Mrs. 
Adrian  to  the  Latin  Quarter,  then  rejoin  him  at  his 
hotel.  Beaufort  walked  home,  and  the  chill  De- 
cember air  revived  his  heated  brow.  What  hours  of 
agony,  suspense,  and  happiness  he  had  endured  in 
one  short  evening  !  Now,  now,  all  was  over  ! 

He  ordered  Bell  to  pack  everything.  The  servants 
were  roused  and  did  his  will  with  blind  obedience. 
When  Brandon  returned,  he  found  all  preparations 
made  for  departure. 

"  I  leave  Paris  to-night,"  he  said,  "to  be  %one  a 
year.  I  take  the  first  train  to  Bordeaux,  and  there 
I  take  the  steamer  to  Brazil.  I  will  wire  you  full 
particulars."  Then  he  told  him  all  that  had  passed, 
making  no  reservation,  changing  nothing. 

"  I  have  not  the  courage  to  hear  her  name,  or  see 
her  again  just  yet.  She  is  inflexible  and  will  never 
break  her  word  to  the  dead." 

"  Did  I  tell  you  true  ?  " 

"Yes,  true,  fatally  true  !  Poor  woman,  she  has 
13* 


298  Marked  "In  Haste" 

suffered  much.  If  the  mystery  ever  be  cleared  up,  I 
may  yet  call  her  mine  ;  if  not,  why,  I  must  live  and 
bear  my  sorrow  like  a  man.  I  shall  never  love  an- 
other. I  shall  go  through  life  with  one  name  on  my 
lips,  and  one  image  in  my  heart.  You  shall  hear 
from  me  often.  I  will  write  from  Bordeaux,  and 
should  she  ever  need  a  friend,  you  must  be  that 
friend  until  I  return.  She  may  address  herself  to 
you." 

In  the  early  morning  he  started  for  Bordeaux.  The 
following  day  he  stood  upon  the  deck  of  the  great 
steamer  plying  between  that  port  and  South  Amer- 
ica. The  shipping  in  the  harbor  was  a  world  of 
masts,  full-rigged  vessels  and  flying  colors.  The 
crowd  on  the  docks  was  terrible.  The  magnificent 
quay,  over  three  miles  in  length,  that  flanked  the 
river,  wore  its  liveliest  aspect.  The  market  stalls 
were  thronged,  and  people  of  all  nations  mingled 
freely  in  the  long  promenade.  There  were  gay 
dresses,  eccentric  costumes,  pretty  peasants,  knots 
of  gentlemen,  and  many  a  fine  lady  celebrated  as  a 
beaute  Bordelaise.  There  were  sailors  home  from  their 
yearly  voyages,  with  beaming  faces,  bronzed  skins, 
and  full  purses,  talking  with  foreign  voices  and  ges- 
ticulating wildly. 

Only  in  Bordeaux,  on  a  fine  day,  could  one  see  such 
a  strange,  motley  crowd,  or  such  a  happy  one  !  It 
was  a  bright,  picturesque  scene,  a  marvellous  tableau 
vivant  that  outrivalled  one  of  Fortuny's  most  gor- 
geous canvasses.  Everything  was  animated  and 
wore  its  cheeriest  aspect.  How  the  ringing  voices 
jarred  on  Beaufort's  nerves  !  He  looked  in  vain  for 


Marked  "In  Haste"  299 

one  familiar  face,  there  was  none.  The  great  ship 
went  out  of  port  and  the  Earl  looked  his  last  for 
some  time  on  the  shores  of  France.  As  he  turned 
yet  once  again,  a  hand  fell  upon  his  shoulder. 

He  started.     Allani  stood  beside  him.     The  Earl 
with  difficulty  repressed  a  scream. 

"  You  too  bound  for  South  America  ?    What  fatal- 
ity is  this  ? " 

"  I  go  to  seek  forgetfulness,"  said  Allani. 
-"We  will  seek  it  together,"  said  Beaufort,  "for  we 
have  both  hopelessly  loved  the  same  woman."     The 
ship  soon  faded  from  sight. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

WHAT    CAME    OF   A    "  MUSICALE." 

PRETTY  Durham  House  was  ready  for  its  guests. 
There  was  to  be  a  grand  morning  musicale,  and  every- 
body was  on  the  qui  vive.  Even  Jack,  the  handsome 
pug,  had  an  eye  open  to  the  arrival  of  strangers.  He 
left  his  rug  in  the  dining-room  ;  he  went  in  and  out  of 
the  library,  and  just  at  the  most  mal  a  propos  moment 
begged  Mrs.  Darmal  to  put  him  up  on  her  sofa  in  the 
boudoir.  Minnie  was  horrified.  Happily  the  master 
of  the  house  had  not  yet  come,  or  Jack  would  have 
had  his  way.  As  it  was,  he  sulked  and  looked  like 
a  dog  \\\  faience  refusing  to  be  comforted,  and  barked 
at  every  carriage  that  came  to  the  door. 

The  Darmals  know  how  to  enjoy  life.  Culture, 
taste,  position,  everything,  render  this  family  one  of 
the  most  charming  in  the  world  to  know,  while  their 
pretty  teas  and  delightful  musicales  live  long  in  the 
memory  of  those  who  enjoy  the  privilege  of  passing 
an  hour  under  their  roof. 

Miss  Minnie,  tall,  fair,  ckdtaigru,  and  stately,  looked 
like  a  blush-rose  in  her  aesthetic  dress.  Her  dark, 
curling  hair  clung  more  saucily  than  ever  to  her 
shapely  head  ;  her  magnificent  Murillo-like  blue 


Marked  "In  Haste."  301 

* 

eyes  looked  out  from  beneath  their  heavy  lashes ; 
and  her  figure,  that  no  gown  could  disguise,  would 
have  distracted  even  Mackart,  so  beautifully  was  it 
rounded,  and  replete  with  the  grace  of  charming 
womanhood. 

She  flitted  to  and  fro,  adjusting  a  bouquet  here,  a 
branch  there,  until  everything  was  in  perfect  readi- 
ness. A  great  many  swells  were  coming.  There 
was  to  be  music — music  in  all  its  forms,  in  all  its  se- 
duction, with  all  its  conveniences.  For  the  divine 
art  can  be  made  a  convenience  of,  as  well  as  anything 
else.  It  reconciles  lovers ;  rivets  more  firmly  friend- 
ship's fetters;  furnishes  delightful  moments  in  which 
to  discuss  the  latest  scandal  ;  covers  up  the  furtive 
rendez-vous  that  is  never  lacking  in  high-life  teas  ; 
and,  in  fact,  is  a  most  gracious  god,  whom  even 
Apollo  was  not  ashamed  to  be  the  exponent  of. 

All  at  once  the  rooms  wrere  filled.  It  is  a  matter 
of  curiosity,  that  no  one  ever  arrives  first  at  a  musi- 
cale,  especially  at  a  morning  entertainment.  Mrs. 
Darmal's  voice  was  heard  : 

"  I  think  the  piano  is  right !  yes,  it  must  be.  Not 
,  high  enough  ?  Oh,  ah  !  you  mean  the  stool  ?  pos- 
sibly. Put  up  the  cover  ?  certainly.  I  know  my- 
self, music  sounds  better  with  that  up.  Of  course, 
all  pianists  insist  on  the  same  thing ;  then  one 
must  put  it  down  for  the  singers.  Don't  mention  it ! 
No  trouble  at  all — Chopin  ?  Oh  !  a  thousand  thanks ! 
Whichever  you  prefer — what  !  Beethoven  ?  Oh,  cer- 
tainly !  My  dear,"  to  Minnie,  in  an  undertone, 
"  come  to  my  relief !  "  (aloud)  "  Permit  me,  my 
daughter,  Mr. — Mr.  Slapenofsky.  Miss  Darmal,  Mr. 


302  Marked  "In  Haste" 

Slapenofsky,  pupil  of  Listz  "  (they  are  all  pupils  of 
Listz),  "will  give  us  the 'Moonlight  Sonata.'  How 
inexpressibly  kind  !  " 

The  hostess  turned.  The  Slavonian  artist  seated 
himself  at  the  piano.  There  was  a  confused  arpeggio- 
hysterio  movement.  Artist  and  audience  were  scton 
in  the  throes  of  the  M.  S. 

"  I  never  hear  that  snorter,"  said  Mrs.  Belden, 
"  but  I  think  of  Rubinstein.  He  does  just  pound 
out  them  chords,  don't  he  ?  I  wanted  him  to  give 
Eleanor  lessons,  but  he  wouldn't.  These  high-toned 
pianner  players  think  a  heap  of  themselves.  I  hear 
he  sent  back  the  Queen's  bank-note.  Counterfeit  ? 
Oh,  no  !  but  regulation  Royal  Palace  pay  didn't  suit 
Rubinstein.  He  envied  some  of  the  bric-a-brac,  and 
got  it." 

Mrs.  Belden  was  from  Kentucky.  She  was  of  ex- 
cellent family  (all  Kentuckians  are),  and  her  first 
season  in  London  was  most  successful.  She  had 
three  daughters,  each  one  handsomer  than  the  other. 
They  were  all  present,  looking  like  tiger  lilies — a  pe- 
culiar style  of  beauty,  but  not  without  its  attractions, 
when  backed  up  by  the  more  solid  material  of  yellow 
nuggets  ;  they  had  mines  in  Nevada,  sugar  planta- 
tions in  the  far  South,  cotton  fields,  and  Mexican 
railways.  Their  wealth  was  principally  from  the  sale 
of  high-proof  whiskey  ;  made  in  the  morning,  im- 
proved at  noon,  and  sold  at  night,  marked  "  Old 
XXXXX.  Xtra  fine  Sour-Mash.  34."  Antiquity  is 
so  quickly  arrived  at  in  America.  Absorption  is  a 
good  process  also,  when  time  presses.  When  one 
wants  antiquity  in  this  marvellous  country,  he  manu- 


Marked  "In  Haste."  303 

factures  it,  buys  it,  or  inherits  the  contraband  relics 
of  some  ancestral  sale.  Things  pass  the  custom- 
house in  the  new  world,  that  cannot  pass  even — com- 
prehension in  any  other. 

Miss  Minnie  was  asked  to  sing.  She  commenced 
a  pretty  ballad  by  Sullivan. 

"  Let  me  accompany  you,  mon  enfant"  said  a  very 
English  voice,  and  the  composer  stood  before  her. 
"Oh,  Mr.  Sullivan,  how  kind,  how  perfectly  lovely !" 
A  train  followed  the  young  composer  ;  his  hand  was 
nearly  shaken  off,  and  getting  to  the  piano  was  a 
serious  affair  ;  but  the  song  was  recommenced  . 

Miss  Darmal  sang  with  rare  taste,  pathos,  and 
charm  ;  an  enthusiastic  encore  was  demanded.  After 
the  "Distant  Shore  "  she  gave  "  My  Dearest  Heart" 
with  such  touching  accent^  that  all  acknowledged 
themselves  her  slaves.  As  the  last  notes  rang  out,  a 
terrible  howl  was  heard  coming  from  under  an  old 
Gobelin  fauteuil.  It  was  the  pug,  Jack.  He  could 
not  bear  music,  was  no  respecter  of  art  or  artists, 
and  howled  away  in  various  keys  long  before  one 
could  get  him  out.  He  did  not  spoil  the  lovely- 
song,  but  every  one  roared.  It  was  too  funny  ;  even 
the  composer  had  to  laugh. 

Then  he  was  taken  up,  petted,  and  endless  lumps 
of  sugar  given  to  him.  What  a  thing  to  be  born  a 
pet.  Race  will  tell. 

A  young  lady  in  black  came  forward  ;  she  kissed 
her  hostess,  with  thanks,  after  the  lovely  song. 

"Ethel!"  said  Minnie,  with  some  surprise,  "when 
did  you  come,  and  why  not  sooner — to  luncheon,  as 
we  expected  ? " 


304  Marked  "In  Haste." 

"  I  came  from  the  Isle  of  Wight,  dear,  and  had  to 
divide  myself  for  the  day.  I  have  made  two  calls 
already,  but  am  here  for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon. 
Will  you  keep  me  ?  " 

A  fond  look  was  her  answer.  Everybody  spoiled 
Miss  Leslie,  and  with  the  Darmals  she  was  quite  a 
favorite.  'Two  charming  young  ladies  came  to  speak 
to  the  hostess.  They  were  accompanied  by  a  tall 
distingue'e  woman,  who  was  immediately  recognized 
as  the  sister  of  the  "  Sage  of  Chappaqua." 

"  What  shall  I  play,  dear  ?  " 

Miss  Cleveland's  voice  was  amiable,  and  sweetly 
modulated.  Mrs.  Darmal  had  just  asked  the  young 
lady  to  favor  them  with  some  music,  and  her  ques- 
tion met  with  an  affirmative  response.  Celia  Cleve- 
land played  as  do  few  amateurs.  Listz  had  guided 
the  fairy  fingers,  and  nature  dictated  that  which  art 
had  perfected.  In  a  moment  all  were  spell-bound, 
as  "  Les  murmures de  la  Seine"  one  of  Chopin's  rarest 
fancies,  echoed  softly  through  the  room.  It  is  a  real 
pleasure  to  hear  one  play  the  piano  at  a  musicale, 
when  some  selection  is  made  that  does  not  require 
the  efforts  of  a  jury  of  twelve  composers  to  decide 
whether  it  be  music  or  mechanism.  Beethoven  is 
welcome  at  an  orchestral  concert,  but  the  entire  pas- 
toral symphony  is  decidedly  de  trop  at  an  afternoon 
tea  or  musical. 

Beware  of  the  names  ending  in  "  ir,"  "hoff," 
"stein,"  and  "ski."  It  means  hours  of  misery. 
Great  professionals,  when  they  deign  to  "  assist "  at 
private  houses,  make  the  fatal  mistake  of  thinking 
that  any  one  cares  about  seeing  their  technique. 


Marked* "In  Haste"  305 

Whether  or  no  their  reputation  suffers  through  in- 
congruous causes,  is  absolutely  nothing  to  the  aver- 
age listener.  Imagine  with  what  delight  the  young 
American's  playing  was  received  ! 

She  refused  to  respond  to  a  marked  encore.  Miss 
Minnie  came  to  present  an  admirer. 

"  Celia,  dear,  Lord  Beaufort  wishes  to  thank  you 
for  the  lovely  music,  and  then  you  must  have  some 
tea." 

Lord  Beaufort  offered  his  arm.  He  had  returned 
to  London  after  a  long  absence,  and  this  was  the 
first  time  he  had  accepted  an  invitation  for  a  musicale. 

They  walked  to  the  table. 

"  I  always  think  of  Paris,"  said  the  Earl,  ".when  I 
hear  that  piece.  How  did  you  happen  to  play  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  favorite  of  mine  ;  and  every  one  seems 
to  like  it.  But  how  hard  it  is  to  know  what  to  play 
at  an  afternoon  party." 

He  was  thinking  of  a  certain  October  night  nearly 
two  years  ago.  He  was  in  a  carriage  with  a  beauti- 
ful woman,  near  the  Seine,  which  looked  like  a  sil- 
ver river.  It  murmured  and  murmured  on.  He 
could  hear  it  while  Miss  Cleveland  was  playing. 
How  every  note  brought  back  to  him  with  startling 
reality  the  eventful  past.  Her  question  interrupted 
the  flow  of  thought.  He  answered  with  his  usual 
gallantry : 

"Any  thing  you  play  must  be  perfect.  I  hope  to 
hear  you  again."  They  neared  the  buffet.  "  Straw- 
berries ?  "  "  Of  course  !  "  "  Cream  ?  "  "  Yes  ;  who 
could  refuse  Devonshire  cream  ?"  The  Earl  helped 
his  fair  companion. 


306  Marked  "In  Haste" 

There  were  many  Americans  present.  Mrs.  Ber- 
tram and  her  charming  daughter,  the  writer  ;  Hon. 
Grenville  Bedford,  talking  as  usual  with  the  pretti- 
est girls  ;  Mr.  Len  Harte,  eagerly  sought  after  by 
everybody — so  distingue,  so  rich,  so  charming.  The 
Tiger  Lilies  had  already  marked  both  these  gentlemen 
as  legitimate  prey.  What  a  cosmopolitan  gathering. 
Gay  voices  here,  hushed  ones  there,  but  never  the 
dead  tea-party  silence  that  is  so  appalling.  Beaufort 
was  most  interested.  Miss  Athalie,  the  dear  worker 
for  charity,  was  present,  her  earnest  brown  eyes 
smiling  from  beneath  her  straw  hat.  Madame  Vere, 
— Mrs.  Darmal's  sister — with  her  beautiful  daughters, 
and  Lord  Schalston  came  in  at  that  moment.  Bret 
Harte  was  being  lionized.  What  a  confusion  of 
voices. 

At  this  moment  another  voice  broke  upon  his  ear — 
a  voice  of  such  fascination  and  power  that  his  heart 
stopped  beating.  Absence  had  not  lessened  its  mu- 
sic ;  a  lifetime  could  never  lessen  its  charm.  It  was 
her  voice,  and  she  was  near  him.  He  did  not  make 
any  effort  to  move,  but  simply  drank  in  every  sound. 
She  was  only  speaking  a  few  words  of  commonplace, 
yet  how  dear  they  were  to  him  !  After  nearly  two 
years  they  would  meet  again.  Meet,  and  how  ? 

The  voice  came  nearer.  Its  owner  was  approach- 
ing the  table.  Mrs.  Darmal  touched  him  upon  the 
shoulder. 

"My  lord,  this  is  indeed  a  pleasure  !  Minnie  told 
me  that  you  had  come.  You  will  see  many  old 
friends  to-day."  She  turned  to  her  companion  and 
whispered  something  :  "  Yes." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  307 

"  With  pleasure,  considering  that — that  we  know 
each  other  already."  Miss  Leslie  looked  at  Lord 
Beaufort. 

He  could  scarcely  believe  his  senses.  She  seemed 
to  wish  to  recognize  him.  He  eagerly  took  her  hand 
and  kissed  it  Mrs.  Darmal  laughed. 

"  This  is  indeed  charming !  To  think  of  your  be- 
ing old  acquaintances.  What  a  coincidence  !  How 
delightful  that  two  of  my  favorites  should  already 
be  friends ! " 

Dear  Mrs.  Darmal  was  really  pleased.  She  loved 
to  bring  young  people  together.  Without  knowing 
why,  she  was  secretly  delighted  that  so  agreeable  a 
rencontre  had  taken  place  beneath  her  roof.  They 
were  evidently  glad  to  see  each  other. 

Miss  Cleveland  finished  her  tea.  She  left  the 
Earl  at  a  nod,  to  go  to  her  mamma,  and  he  was  free. 
He  turned  to  Miss  Leslie,  and  offered  his  arm.  She 
hesitated,  then  finally  accepted  it.  How  strange, 
how  prosaic  a  meeting  for  two  people  who  had  loved 
each  other.  He  spoke  : 

"  You  are  looking  well." 

"Yes." 

"  I — I  am  most  pleased  to  see  you  !  " 

"Thanks!" 

"  It  has  been  a  long  time "  A  peculiar  sound 

of  fifths  being  struck,  broke  upon  the  ear.  A  violin 
was  being  accorded  to  the  piano.  More  music. 
Some  Paganini,  indubitably.  His  mantle  has  fallen 
upon  hundreds  of  shoulders.  The  young  creature 
present  had  the  reputation,  however,  of  owning  it 
exclusively.  She  was  a  first  prize  of  the  Paris  Con- 


308  Marked  "In  Haste" 

servatory,  and  later  a  pupil  of  the  great  Leonard. 
Voices  were  hushed,  glasses  adjusted,  and  the  gen- 
eral buzz  of  conversation  died  to  the  ordinary  whis- 
per. It  was  impossible  then  to  talk.  The  Earl  led 
his  companion  toward  the  piano.  Led — dragged 
her  rather.  The  crush  was  great.  There  was  an 
odor  of  flowers  and  summer  air  coming  through 
the  open  window  which  was  particularly  inviting. 
They  finally  reached  an  adjacent  corner.  One  could 
only  see  the  little  head  of  the  player.  Her  skirts 
absolutely  seemed  to  mingle  with  dozens  of  others 
near  by,  and  it  seemed  impossible  that  she  could 
even  bow.  Oh,  the  crowd  that  throngs  around 
an  artist,  a  celebrity,  a  prize  from  the  Paris  Con- 
servatory !  It  is  certainly  flattering,  but  very  ter- 
rible. 

As  soon  as  the  scherzo  was  finished,  Lord  Beaufort 
made  an  effort  to  speak.  They  had  neared  the  back 
drawing-room,  ostensibly  to  look  at  a  fine  Bellini  in 
a  quaint  frame.  The  summer  breeze  still  stole  in 
through  the  window,  the  odor  of  countless  blossoms 
perfumed  the  air,  and  he  really  seemed  far  away  from 
the  crowd,  heat,  and  bustle  of  an  afternoon  musicale. 
His  mind  was  so  attuned  to  thoughts  of  the  past, 
that  he  took  up  his  words  where  the  sound  of  the 
fifths  had  interrupted  them. 

"  It  has  been  a  long  time  since  we  have  met.  I 
have  thought  of  you  always,  a"nd  wondered  why  no 
word  ever  came  from  you.  Had  you  forgotten  that 
I  was  to  be  a  friend  ?"  Her  face  flushed. 

"  I  had  not  forgotten,  I  have  never  forgotten,  but 
— but  we  cannot  talk  of  those  things  here." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  309 

"  No,"  said  a  cheery  voice,  "  I  sha'n't  allow  any 
flirting  in  sight  of  me  and  the  Bellini." 

Sydney  Darmal  came  .up.  He  was  in  uniform, 
and  resembled  his  sister  very  much.  No  amount  of 
padding  could  hide  his  slender  form,  and  the  red 
coat,  with  its  glittering  toggery,  looked  startling  as  red 
coats  always  do.  A  handsome,  happy  lad,  a  welcome 
sight  at  any  time,  but  just  then  a  trial  to  Beaufort. 
Could  he  never  get  a  chance  to  say  a  word  ? 

"  I  have  brought  a  chum  to  introduce,"  said 
Sydney,  complacently.  "  You  must  know  him,  Ethel " 
(in  an  undertone)  ;  ''  he's  an  awfully  good  fellow,  and 
my  particular  friend.'  "  Ethel  smiled : 

"Your  friends  are  always  welcome."  Then  she 
bowed  amiably  and  extended  her  hand,  American 
fashion.  Sydney's  voice  was  orthodox. 

"  Miss  Leslie,  allow  me  to  present  the  Hon. 
Hamilton  Lockwood."  Then  he  turned  to  Beaufort 
before  one  could  speak. 

"I  say,  old  fellow,  when  did  you  get  back? 
Where's  Brandon  ?  The  last  time  I  saw  him  was  at 
the  Star  and  Garter — Derby  day.  He  was  having  a 
jolly  time  with  three  good-looking  chaps,  tremendous 
swells.  I  did  not  get  a  chance  to  speak  to  him — hope 
he  is  well.  An  awful  funk,  wasn't  it,  when  that  beast 
of  a  Hungarian's  horse  took  the  Derby  ?  I  lost  a 
clean  hundred.  Ethel,"  abruptly,  "  have  some  tea. 
You  have  had  some  ?  Well,  I  think  I'll  leave  and 
get  a  cup." 

"  I  have  had  tea,  cake,  and  strawberries,"  said 
Ethel,  calmly  ;  "yes,  even  Sally  Lunn." 

"  By  George  !  strawberries,  cake,  Lunn  !  I'll  have 


3io  Marked  "In  Haste" 

some  myself.  The  fact  is,  I  have  been  off  my  feed 
for  several  days.  Had  some  good  news  this  morn- 
ing, and  my  appetite  is  just  coming  back." 

Sydney  burst  away.  He  stopped  to  speak  to  his 
two  lovely  cousins,  who  had  just  come  in  with  Mrs. 
Darmal's  sister.  He  dragged  Miss  Eleanor  off  to 
the  table. 

The  Hon.  Lockwood  was  talking  to  Miss  Leslie. 
Beaufort's  face  was  strangely  fixed,  but  he  looked 
less  unhappy  when  Minnie  came  up  and  took  the 
young  gentleman  away.  One  of  the  American  tiger 
lilies  wanted  to  know  him.  He  was  doomed. 

Beaufort  turned  quickly  to  Ethel.  "  I  scarcely 
know  what  to  say,"  he  began,  "nor  how  to  say  it. 
Why  are  you  always  called  '  Miss  ? '  Would  not 
'  Madame  '  be  more  in  keeping  with  the  weeds  you 
wear  ? " 

She  looked  amazedly  at  him. 

"What  do  you  mean,  my  lord  ?" 

His  voice  trembled.  "  Are  you  still  masquerad- 
ing ?  Will  you  always  be  Mademoiselle  Leslie  ? " 

"Probably,"  she  said,  coldly,  "until  I  am  mar- 
ried." 

"  A  second  time  ?" 

"  A  second  time  ?  no,  a  first." 

Her  assurance  staggered  him.  What  could  she 
mean  ?  Something  in  her  voice  said  that  she  was  not 
jesting  now.  A  light  seemed  to  break  upon  him. 

"Great  God  !"  he  said,  faintly,  "you  have  never 
been  married  ?  Who — who  was  the  man  that  died  in 
the  Latin  Quarter  ?  " 

She  turned  very  pale.     Her  slender  gloved  hands 


Marked  "In  Haste"  311 

trembled  as  they  clasped  her  fan  ;  then  a  blush,  deep 
and  beautiful,  overspread  her  countenance.  She  said, 
brokenly  : 

"You  told  me  you  knew  all.  I  thought  you  did. 
No,  he  was  not  my  husband." 

She  stopped  speaking.  His  eyes  were  filled  with 
eagerness  and  dread.  What  was  she  about  to 
confess  ? 

"  He  was " 

"My  brother,"  she  responded,  brokenly.  "I — I 
thought  that  you  knew  all.  Why  did  you  tell  me 
that  you  did  ?  What  must  you  have  thought  of 
me  ? " 

His  face  was  glorified  with  the  undying  love. 
Then  he  said  : 

"  I  have  made  a  terrible  mistake,  but  my  life 
shall  atone  for  it.  I  must  speak  with  you.  Where, 
when  ? " 

"  I  am  not  in  London.  I  go  to  the  Isle  of  Wight 
to-morrow  morning.  I  am  visiting  Isaure  at  Shank- 
lin,"  she  answered. 

"  I  will  go  with  you.  May  I  come  ?  Please  say 
yes." 

A  new,  strange  joy  was  taking  possession  of  her. 
After  all  that  had  passed,  all  that  she  had  suffered, 
was  she  ever  to  be  happy  ?  He  continued  : 

"I    will   explain    there  what    I    had   heard    and 
thought  of  you  ;  and  you — you  shall  tell  me  every-  . 
thing.     You  know  how  I   must  love  you,  but  you 
cannot  know  the  whole  truth.     After  the  musicale  is 
ended " 

"  Yes,"  she  interrupted,  "we  may  speak  again,  but 


312  Marked  "In  Haste." 

no  more  now.  We  have  already  attracted  atten- 
tion." 

A  very  handsome  lady  came  toward  them.  She 
was  that  rara  avis,  a  well-dressed  English  woman. 
She  greeted  Ethel,  and  bowed  to  Beaufort. 

Miss  Leslie  spoke. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Langley,  how  sweet  of  you  to  say  un 
j)etit  bonjour  !  Is  not  this  a  charming  musicale  ?  " 

Mrs.  Langley  assented. 

"  I  am  just  running  away  now,  my  dear.  It  is 
getting  late,  and  my  worse  half  will  be  waiting. 
When  will  you  lunch  with  us  ?  " 

"Very  soon.  Next  week,  perhaps.  I  am  off  for 
Shanklin  to-morrow,  but  will  not  stay  long.  Why 
are  you  going  so  early  ?  " 

"  Early  ?  It  is  nearly  six.  I  have  a  dinner  and 
theatre  party,  so  haven't  another  moment  to  stay. 
Don't  forget  to  let  me  hear  from  you  soon.  Au 
revoir." 

"  I  am  coming  too,"  Ethel  said,  and  she  walked 
toward  the  first  entrance.  Mrs.  Langley  knew 
the  Earl  by  name  and  reputation.  Ethel  presented 
him.  It  is  not  the  fashion  to  introduce  people  in 
society,  but  it  is  sometimes  very  agreeable  to  know 
whom  one  is  talking  to.  In  Europe,  it  is  taken 
for  granted  that  people  who  meet  at  the  same  house 
may  speak  to  each  other  without  special  introduc- 
tion. It  is  a  compliment  paid  and  exacted  by  the 
host  or  hostess.  In  America,  pretty  women  glare 
at  each  other  and  never  speak.  Should  a  lady  who 
has  lived  abroad  by  any  chance  address  her  neigh- 
bor, she  will  receive  a  curt,  monosyllabic  answer,  if 


Marked  "In  Haste"  313 

any  at  all,  and  will  be  made  to  feel  like  wishing  to 
,  drop  through  some  adjacent  cellar-way.  The  rude- 
ness  of  the  average  American  woman  and  man  is 
proverbial.  The  women  have  grace,  yes  ;  beauty, 
undoubtedly  ;  manners,  none  at  all,  unless  very  bad. 
Abroad  there  is  no  stiffness  at  the  teas,  none  at  balls, 
and  soirees  are  absolutely  sans  ceremonie.  In  America, 
young  ladies  are  miserable  if  their  dancing  cards  are 
not  full ;  but  perdition  seize  the  gentleman  who 
dares  to  speak  without  having  been  properly  intro- 
duced. 

In  Europe,  no  girl  goes  supperless  to  bed,  or  rests 
partnerless  at  a  ball.  Any  gentleman  may  step  up 
to  a  lady  and  speak  to  her — of  the  weather,  ask  her 
to  dance,  or  to  have  an  ice.  It  is  not  an  affront,  no 
matter  whether  he  knows  her  or  not.  The  acquain- 
tance may  be  kept  up  afterward,  or  die  a  natural 
death  then  and  there  ;  it  is  optional  with  both  par- 
ties. But  the  respectability  of  people  meeting  under 
the  same  roof  is  taken  for  granted,  and  it  is  a  com- 
pliment paid  the  hostess  to  mingle  and  converse 
freely  with  one  and  all.  She  has  honored  you  by  an 
invitation  to  meet  her  guests,  and  you  must  honor 
her  by  treating  them  with  proper  consideration,  at 
least,  during  the  acceptance  of  her  hospitality. 

The  Earl  was  happy.  He  was  charmed  with  any 
of  Miss  Leslie's  friends,  and  he  found  Mrs.  Langley 
particularly  agreeable.  He  wished  she  would  ask 
him  also  to  luncheon,  but  she  didn't.  English  ladies 
do  not  invite  people  to  their  houses  on  such  short 
acquaintance  as  do  Americans.  It  takes,  on  an 
average,  two  years,  or  certainly  two  seasons,  to  find 


3H  Marked  "In  Haste." 

out  whether  one's,  so  to  speak,  dearest  friend  (Eng- 
lish, of  course)  is  really  more  than  polite.  It  is  a 
difficult  national  problem.  Some  individuals,  how- 
ever, have  solved  it  to  their  entire  satisfaction. 

It  was  impossible  for  the  Earl  to  say  a  word  to 
Miss  Leslie.  She  could  not  get  away  as  soon  as  she 
expected,  however,  for  some  of  her  friends  had  just 
arrived. 

There  were  the  lovely  Misses  Emily  and  Florence 
de  Mosenthal,  nieces  of  the  great  Vienna  poet,  with 
their  handsome  brothers.  There  were  Major  Sam- 
son, with  his  pretty  wife,  and  Mrs.  Laurie,  one  of 
the  loveliest  of  American  belles  who  have  married 
Englishmen,  and  a  number  of  others,  all  of  whom 
\vere  known  to  Ethel.  How  happy  she  seemed,  and 
how  happy  he  was,  now  that  even  a  slight  under- 
standing existed  between  them ! 

The  mnsica/e  was  going  on.  More  crowds,  more 
music.  Christine  Nilsson  dropped  in,  looking  lovely 
in  a  black  Spanish  lace  dress.  Mrs.  Fred.  Sullivan 
was  helping  Bret  Harte  to  some  tea  when  Rizelli,  a 
delightful  tenor,  commenced  to  sing  one  of  Tosti's 
songs.  It  was,  in  truth,  a  charming  afternoon,  and 
dear  Mrs.  Darmal  was  justifiably  proud  of  her  suc- 
cess. 

Beaufort  finally  secured  an  opportunity  of  saying 
a  word  to  Miss  Leslie. 

"  May  I  accompany  you  to  Shanklin  to-morrow  ? " 

"  No,  I  fear  not ;  cela  ne  serait  pas  convenable" 
Then  she  laughed — a  low,  sweet  laugh  that  glad- 
dened his  heart.  How  long  it  had  been  since  he 
had  heard  its  music  ! 


Marked  "fn  Haste"  315 

"  You  are  right,"  thoughtfully.  "  I  will  go  to  the 
Isle  of  Wight  by  the  late  train  to-night.  I  will  ven- 
ture an  impromptu  call  on  Madame  la  Comtesse, 
and  we  will  all  come  to  meet  you  at  Cowes  to- 
morrow morning.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  I  am 
a  wretch,"  hastily;  "where  is  Mrs.  Adrian?"  and 
again,  "  what  do  you  think  of  my  plan  ? " 

"  It  is  perfect ;  nothing  could  be  more  delight- 
ful. And — and  Mrs.  Adrian  "  (accent  on  the  Mrs.) 
"  is  very  well.  She  has  gone  to-day  to  the  Tower. 
After  having  been  in  London  off  and  on  for  five 
years,  she  decided  to  accompany  some  old  friends 
there.  Later  she  was  coming  here,  but  I  am  afraid 
something  has  detained  her.  Your  '  love  ? '  "  with 
mock  surprise  ;  "  of  course  I  will  give  it  to  her. 
She  is  sure  to  accept  it.  You  are  one  of  her  prime 
.favorites." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Adrian  !  "  with  an  affectionate  look  at 
Ethel.  "  I  always  knew  she  was  a  woman  of  taste. 
I  think — I  think  she  liked  me  more  than  you  did 
yourself." 

"  Possibly — I — I  never  liked  you  !  " 

"  Good-by  !  "  tenderly,  "  until  to-morrow."  Then 
he  made  his  way  toward  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SHANKLIN-CHINE. 

"  THERE  she  is — la  voilct,  !  "  said  the  Countess. 

"  There  they  are,"  said  the  Count,  as  -the  little 
steamer  put  into  Cowes,  and  he  saw  Mrs.  Adrian 
and  Miss  Leslie  standing  on  the  deck.  The  Earl  was 
as  impatient  as  any  Englishman  dared  be.  His  face 
wore  a  most  expectant  look  and  his  eyes  deepened 
as  he  saw  her  approach.  It  was  the  work  of  but  a 
moment,  and  Mrs.  Adrian's  hearty  "  How  do  you 
do  ?"  went  quite  to  Beaufort's  heart. 

He  took  Ethel's  hand,  looked  into  her  eyes,  and 
murmured  one  word  of  love. 

"Hurry!  hurry!"  said  the  Count,  "or  we  shall 
miss  the  terrible  but  only  tramway  to  be  had  at  this 
hour."  Then  they  all  hurried  and  clambered  into 
the  convenient,  airy  vehicle. 

When  they  reached  Shanklin  a  carriage  was  wait- 
ing. They  drove  to  Hollier's  Hotel,  and  in  no  time 
were  quite  at  home.  Isaure's  beautiful  rooms  on  the 
ground  floor  were  bright  with  the  thousand  and  one 
pretty  things  that  a  woman  of  taste  always  manages 
to  have  about  her.  A  bird  sang  in  a  golden  cage  ; 
flowers  decked  mantel  and  ttagtre,  and  last,  but  not 


Marked  "In  Haste"  317 

least,  in  every  conceivable  spot  were  her  constant 
companions,  the  photographs  of  her  friends.  A  low 
window  opened  out  on  a  charming  lawn,  and  to  the 
right  was  seen  a  lawn  tennis  set.  An  early  game 
had  been  interrupted  to  go  and  meet  Miss  Leslie.  It 
was  just  eleven  o'clock,  the  hour  when  morning 
brightens  into  noon,  when  birds'  voices  are  begin- 
ning to  be  tired,  when  the  busy  throng  of  bathers 
come  radiant  and  hungry  from  the  beach,  when 
horses  gallop  through  the  town,  table  d'hote  bells  are 
ringing,  the  omnibus  arrives,  and  the  busy  day  at  a 
seaside  resort  is  fairly  under  way. 

The  Earl  was  seen  in  close  conversation  with 
Ethel. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Isaure,  "  flirting  again  ?  " 

Count  Leon  looked  wise,  Mrs.  Adrian  compla- 
cent, while  Ethel  blushed — yes,  actually  blushed. 
Quite  the  orthodox  thing  for  a  young  lady  to  do 
under  certain  circumstances.  Beaufort  came  toward 
the  Countess,  half  dragging  Miss  Leslie  with  him. 

"  It's  a  flirtation,"  he  said,  "which  shall  go  on 
through  life.  I  love  Miss  Leslie " 

"Nonsense,"  said  Isaure,  mockingly. 

Beaufort  smiled.  "  No,  not  nonsense.  I  am  seri- 
ous, she  is  serious,  and  has  promised  to  marry  me." 

"Wedding  bells  at  Shanklin  !"  The  Countess's 
voice  betrayed  her  great  pleasure. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Ethel,  "but  not  mine.  Why,  I 
have  scarcely  yet  said  that  I  would " 

"  Ethel  !  "  said  Beaufort,  severely  ;  "  you  are  to  do 
exactly  as  Mrs.  Adrian  says,  and  she  will  plead  my 
cause,  I  know."  Then  he  rushed  up  to  her  aunt.  He 


3i8  Marked  "In  Haste" 

talked  in  an  undertone,  but  with  such  vehemence 
that  a  tempest  seemed  suddenly  to  have  invaded 
the  apartment. 

"We  will  talk  it  over,"  said  Mrs.  Adrian  ;  and  that 
was  all  the  answer  she  would  give.  Beaufort  had  to 
be  satisfied.  The  Countess  Leon  and  Mrs.  Adrian 
went  to  have  a  game  of  tennis,  while  the  two  lovers 
sought  a  corner  of  the  garden  and  sat  on  a  rustic 
bench  under  an  old  tree.  Lovers  always  do  that. 
There  is  always  an  old  garden,  always  an  old  tree,  and 
naturally  follows  the  old  story  told  while  sitting  on 
an  old  rustic  bench.  After  a  few  words  Ethel  spoke  : 

"  I  must  get  in  shadow,  dear,  for  what  I  have  to 
say  is  too  sad  to  bear  the  sunlight.  Yet,  what  more 
appropriate  hour  than  high  noon  in  which  to  give  to 
the  light  of  day  the  true  story  of  a  long-cherished 
grief  ?  I  will  be  brief,  as  there  is  much  to  say.  My 
father  was  a  Southern  planter,  and  married,  when 
very  young  one  of  two  sisters,  daughters  of  a  neigh- 
boring friend,  both  heiresses  to  great  wealth.  He 
died  shortly  after  my  birth,  and  my  mother  in  two 
years  married  again.  She  chose  wisely,  as  my  step- 
father filled  almost  my  own  father's  place.  He  was 
indeed  dear  to  us.  One  child,  a  son,  was  born  to 
them,  my  half-brother,  Harry  Desmond  (that  was 
my  step-father's  name),  the  young  man  whom  you 
knew  in  Paris.  We  loved  each  other  with  the  rarest 
affection  that  could  exist  between  brother  and 
sister,  and  so  fond  were  we  that  we  could  not  bear  to 
be  separated.  Harry  was  always  a  wild  boy,  and  be- 
fore he  was  six  years  old  my  mother's  second  hus- 
band died.  She  followed  very  soon  after,  leaving  us 


Marked  "fn  Haste"  319 

quite  alone,  and  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Adrian,  was  con- 
fided her  two  children.  Harry  was  sent  to  a  boys' 
school,  but  finally  came  back  to  a  very  good  college 
near  home.  I  was  everything  to  him,  and  my  mother 
— whom  I  had  always  loved  so  tenderly,  begged  me 
never  to  forsake  my  brother,  and  above  all,  to  watch 
over  him  most  carefully.  He  was  getting  wild,  run- 
ning off  nights  on  hair-breadth  escapades,  and  I  felt 
really  terribly  worried  at  times.  After  her  death 
(my  dear  mother's),  Mrs.  Adrian  came  to  live  with  us 
at  the  old  homestead.  My  health  at  this  time  was  so 
delicate  that  the  doctors  ordered  me  to  Europe.  Aunt 
and  I  came  to  England,  and  visited  a  paternal  uncle 
who  was  attached  to  the  United  States  Legation  at  the 
Court  of  St.  James.  After  a  pleasant  sojourn  in 
London  we  travelled.  I  stayed  a  year  in  Germany 
at  school.  We  then  went  to  Spain,  then  to  Italy, 
and  from  there  came  back  to  Paris.  We  met  many 
people,  and  the  friends  I  have  now  are  mostly  those 
I  made  at  that  time.  We  remained  abroad  two  years, 
returned  to  America,  then  came  back  again,  and  so 
on  every  summer,  until  the  season  you  met  me  in 
Paris.  On  my  return  home  we  always  kept  open 
house,  and  on  one  of  these  more  recent  occasions 
Mr.  Allani  came  to  see  us.  He  had  letters  from  my 
uncle.  Harry  was  so  wild  that  we  scarcely  ever  dared 
speak  of  him.  I  think  Mr.  Allani,  with  many  others, 
never  knew  that  I  had  a  brother ;  at  least  he  might 
have  thought  of  him  as  a  school-boy,  and  he  ignored 
the  fact  that  his  name  was  different  from  mine.  The 

next  time  we  came  we  determined  to " 

"What  about  Allani  ?"  interrupted  Beaufort 


320  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  I  will  tell  that  later.  You — you  are  patient  ? " 
He  smiled  and  stroked  her  hand  fondly.  She  con- 
tinued : 

"  We  determined  to  bring  Harry  with  us.  I  was 
again  ill  and  could  not  stay  in  America  ;  besides,  his 
continued  escapades  made  our  life  there  miserable. 
Why,  he  once  ran  away,  was  gone  nearly  a  year,  and 
reported  dead.  He  was  then  within  two  months  of 
his  graduating,  and  six  months  later  would  be  of 
age.  Although  I  hated  to  go,  it  was  decided  that  we 
should  await  him  in  London  or  Paris,  and  every- 
thing was  prepared  this  time  for  a  lengthened  stay 
in  Europe.  We  started  in  May,  called,  I  believe,  and 
rightly,  the  unluckiest  month  in  the  year.  We  had 
barely  arrived  in  Paris,  after  a  short  trip  over  Eng- 
land, when  one  night  I  received  a  letter  in  a  strange 
hand,  with  another  enclosed  from  Harry.  '  Come  to 
me  at  once,'  he  said  ;  '  I  am  in  deep  distress.  Say 
nothing  to  Aunt,  and  follow  the  bearer  of  this.'  I 
had  already  a  presentiment  of  evil,  and  imagine  how 
quickly  I  obeyed  his  summons." 

"  My  dear  love,"  said  Beaufort,  pressing  her  hand, 
"could  I  but  have  been  near  you." 

She  looked  gratefully  at  him  and  continued  : 

"We  went  to  an  old  house  near  the  Rue  Vaugirard, 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Catacombs.  There  I 
found  him.  He  was  disguised  and  told  me  a  terri- 
ble tale.  My  misgivings  had  not  been  false.  About 
a  week  after  I  left,  a  party  of  students  started  out 
on  a  hunting  escapade.  Of  course  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  shoot  during  that  season,  but  they  were  de- 
termined on  some  fun.  After  a  night  of  drinking 


Marked  "In  Haste"  .    321 

and  carousal,  they  were  in  the  act  of  going  over  a 
hedge  into  Judge  Garden's  grounds,  when  they  were 
detected,  taken  for  poachers,  and  a  frightful  scene 
ensued.  One  of  the  keepers  was  killed,  and  just  as 
the  judge's  only  son  was  coming  into  the  fracas, 
Harry  fired.  Two  shots  were  heard  simultaneously, 
and  young  Garden  fell.  There  had  been  a  family 
feud  for  years  between  my  father  and  the  judge. 
Of  course  the  next  day  the  whole  thing  came  out. 
He  declared  that  Harry  had  killed  his  son  intention- 
ally, and  as  soon  as  the  proper  inquest  was  con- 
cluded, he  had  him  indicted  for  murder. 

"  In  the  meantime  Harry  was  told  of  this.  Wild 
with  despair  at  the  result;  of  what  they  had  thought 
would  be  a  harmless  lark  ;  losing  his  head,  he  ac- 
cepted unwise  counsel  and  fled  the  country.  A 
faithful  negro,  once  one  of  my  father's  slaves,  helped 
him  to  fly.  Through  brake  and  marsh,  through 
swamp  and  fen,  they  made  their  way  to  New  Or- 
leans. His  escape  was  so  well  planned  that  none 
had  imagined  such  a  step. 

"  He  took  a  steamer  for  Havana,  then  one  for 
New  York,  and  from  there  sailed  to  Havre.  He  had 
but  just  arrived  in  Paris  wrhen  I  received  his  letter. 
I  was  broken-hearted  when  I  knew  all,  but  I  would 
not  abandon  my  brother,  although  a  fugitive  from  jus- 
tice. I  got  him  off  to  Brussels,  when  suddenly  back 
he  came  to  Paris.  The  Southern  American  papers 
were  filled  with  accounts  of  the  affair,  and  I  was  in 
daily  fear  that  he  would  be  taken.  His  coming 
away  was  most  foolish.  Surely  he  never  would 
have  been  convicted,  but  how  could  he  tell  that  ? 
'4* 


322  Marked  "In  Haste" 

And  another  worse  thing,  he  believed  himself 
guilty " 

"  He  believed  himself  ? "  repeated  the  Earl ;  "  was 
he  then  not  guilty  ?  " 

"  It  has  been  proven  since  that  he  was  not,  but 
alas,  vindication  came,  as  it  often  does,  too  late  !  " 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but  she  bravely  con- 
tinued. 

The  Earl  wiped  them  away.  "  My  own  love,  what 
you  have  suffered  !  but  in  future,  there  will  always 
be  one  strong  arm  to  lean  upon,  one  hand  to  dry 
your  tears,  should  they  ever  flow." 

"  I  have  nearly  finished,  but  I  can  never  think  of 
Harry's  unfortunate  life  and  early  death  without 
losing  utter  command  of  myself. 

"  He  determined  to  stay  in  Paris,  and  it  was  decided 
that  he  should  rarely  leave  the  house,  if  ever,  for 
some  time.  I  was  to  bring  him  my  letters  and  news, 
if  any  came.  I  had  friends  in  America,  whom  we 
had  interested,  some  for  love  and  others  for  money 
(how  often  have  I  thanked  God  that  I  was  not  poor), 
but  my  dearest  and  truest  aid  has  been  Gratiot.  I 
confided  in  him  as  much  as  I  dared,  and  he  helped 
me  all  in  his  power.  It  was  feared  that  my  going 
alone  to  the  Latin  Quarter  would  attract  attention  ; 
also,  that  in  case  of  an  emergency  I  would  need  some 
faithful  attendant  at  hand.  A  man  was  found  who 
could  fill  that  place." 

Beaufort  groaned  and  muttered  to  himself  :  "  Yes, 
with  a  vengeance." 

"  What  did  you  say,  dear  ?    I  thought  you  spoke  ? " 

"Nothing,  nothing  ;  I  was  only  thinking." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  323 

"  The  day  my  new  attendant  was  to  come,  a  large 
package  of  valuable  letters  had  arrived  at  the  Le- 
gation. Mr.  Gratiot  sent  them  by  the  man,  who 
was  instructed  to  deliver  them  into  no  hands  but 
mine." 

"And  you  received  them  ?"  The  Earl's  voice  was 
steady. 

"Yes,  but  a  curious  thing  happened.  The  man 
who  was  to  bring  them  to  me  lost  them.  They  were 
found  by  some  one  who,  without  any  cause,  volun- 
tarily accepted  the  position  offered.  I  presume  he 
was  some  poor  fellow  out  of  employment." 

"  Decidedly  !  " 

"  You  said,  dear " 

"  Nothing— nothing  !  Pray  continue,  I  am  most 
interested." 

"  And  I  must  say  he  served  me  extraordinarily 
well.  His  name  was  Felden.  Why  !  you  saw  him 
that  night — don't  you  remember  him  ?" 

"Perfectly!" 

"  He  disappeared  there  and  then.  I  felt  some  way 
he  would  never  betray  me,  but  his  was  a  strange 
character.  He  never  asked  for  any  hire,  and  I  sent 
him  a  check  for  five  thousand " 

"  Where  to  ? "  said  Beaufort,  eagerly. 

"  To  Meurice's  Hotel.     Five  thousand  francs  !  " 

"  He  never  got  it,"  said  he,  excitedly. 

"  Why,  how  do  you  know  ?  "  with  surprise. 

"  I  suppose,  from  your  saying  that  he  '  disappeared 
then  and  there,'  that  you  had  never  even  heard  from 
him." 

"  No,  I  never  have,  and  stranger  still,  the  check 


324  Marked  "/«  Haste" 

has  never  been  presented  for  payment.  I  sent  it 
with  instructions  to  be  kept  until  called  for  in  per- 
son." 

"  How  did  you  know  that  he  was  not  the  one  Mr. 
Gratiot  sent  with  the  letters  ?  " 

"  It  is  curious,  but  things  come  about  strangely. 
About  two  months  ago  a  man  called  at  the  Legation. 
He  asked  to  see  Mr.  Gratiot,  and  explained  all ;  that 
he  had  lost  the  package  and  did  not  dare  tell  them 
at  once,  but  that  the  following  day,  when  he  went  to 
confess  the  loss,  to  his  amazement  he  was  informed 
that  it  was  all  right.  The  lady  was  well  pleased 
with  her  attendant,  and  had  received  the  letters 
safely.  He  was  too  much  relieved  to  think  of  ex- 
plaining any  further,  but  got  another  situation. 
Curiosity  led  him  to  tell  the  truth  at  this  late  day  ; 
also,  being  out  of  employment,  he  wanted  another 
place.  He  had  never  been  to  the  Legation  since." 

"  What  kind  of  a  looking  man  was  he  ? " 

"Well,  that  is  stranger  than  all.  He  looked  as 
much  like  Fqlden " 

"  Oh  ! "  with  a  little  grimace. 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  My  love,  I — I  stuck  a  thorn  in  my  finger." 

"Let  me  take  it  out.  Why,  there's  none  there  !  " 
surprisedly. 

"It  was  an  excuse  that  you  might  hold  my  hand." 
Who  could  not  forgive  so  simple  an  artifice  ? 

"He  looked  as  much  like  Felden  as  one  man  could 
resemble  another,  except  that " 

"  That  what  ?  " 

"  Some  way  he  did  not  strike  Mr.  Gratiot  as  being 


Marked  "In  Haste"  325 

so  much  of  a  gentleman.  So  he  explained  to  me. 
I  never  saw  him.  But  what  a  long  diversion " 

"  Of  course,  how  could  he  look  like  a  gentleman — 
as  much  like  one  as — as  Felden.  I — you  know  I  re- 
member Felden.  I  saw  him  that  night." 

"  Yes,  that  night.  Well,  we  are  getting  back  to 
it.  Harry  fretted  continually,  and  finally  came  down 
with  a  sharp  attack  of  fever.  I  can  never  tell  you 
of  our  anxiety,  nor  how  I  hated  to  keep  up  appear- 
ances before  the  world  ;  still  it  was  the  only  thing  to 
do.  Some  old  friends  in  Paris  had-  heard  some  tale 
about  Harry  and  a  college  escapade — many  believed 
him  dead — but  no  one  could  exactly  say  what  it  was. 
My  going  in  the  world  as  if  nothing  had  ever  hap- 
pened, was  the  only  possible  thing  to  do  to  avert 
suspicion  while  taking  care  of  him.  When  he  fell  ill 
we  were  desperate,  but  three  days  before  the  soiree 
the  doctor  pronounced  him  quite  out  of  danger.  To 
think  of  my  dancing  when  my  only  brother  lay 
dying !  It  is  too  horrible.  A  relapse  the  very  day, 
the  tenth,  caused  the  fatal  result.  You  know  all  the 
rest,  or  nearly  all.  I  thought  I  would  see  or  hear 
from  you  again,  but  feared  that  even  your  love  could 
not  stand  so  fearful  a  trial.  The  papers  were  filled 
with  sensational  stories  of  a  mysterious  death  in  the 
passage  St.  Pere,  and  the  whole  miserable  truth 
came  to  light ;  but  only  the  name  of  Desmond  was 
prominent.  I  could  not  stay  in  Paris  ;  we  ^have 
travelled  ever  since,  but  I  never  forgot  a  vow  made 
the  dead,  to  clear  up  his  memory-  By  my  own 
efforts,  detectives  placed  on  the  track  soon  had  the 
proper  clue.  About  a  month  ago,  the  head-keeper 


326  Marked  "In  Haste" 

on  the  Garden  estates  confessed  that  he  had  taken 
that  opportunity  to  avenge  a  slight  paid  him  years 
before  by  the  judge's  son.  What  a  fearful  thing  is 
revenge,  and  how  often  must  the  innocent  suffer  for 
the  guilty  !  Only  one  thing  has  supported  me  in 
peace  during  these  last  terrible  years.  I  am  a  fatal- 
ist  " 

"  Ah  !  my  love,  so  am  I.  You  will  know  why 
later." 

"A  firm  believer  in  destiny,"  she  continued. 
"  What  is  to  be  will  be.  I  could  only  reconcile  my- 
self in  that  way  to  Harry's  premature  death.  His 
dreadful  misfortunes  commenced  in  early  youth.  He 
ended  a  mistaken  life  perhaps  in  the  most  honest 
way  possible.  It  is  a  horrible  thing  to  say  or  think, 
but  I  sometimes  imagine  that  he  was  taken  away  to 
be  spared  a  worse  fate." 

"  You  look  at  it  in  the  right  way,  my  love.  Un- 
doubtedly a  wiser  power  took  into  his  keeping  that 
which  a  mother's  love  could  no  longer  protect" 

"  But  you,  yourself  ;  now  tell  me  what  became  of 
you.  Why  I  never  received  a  word,  a  line,  a  token." 

"  I  started  for  Bordeaux  the  next  day.  I  sailed 
for  South  America  the  following  one.  I  went  with 
— with  Allani." 

"  Allani  ? "  she  said,  then,  blushing,  dropped  her 
eyes. 

"Yes,  Allani." 

"  I  once  knew  him — but  I  told  you." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Beaufort,  fervently,  "that 
you  hid  nothing  from  me.  He  is  an  old  friend,  and 
told  me  that  he  loved  you." 


Marked  "In  Haste."'  327 


"Yes,  once " 

"Now  he  loves  you  still,  I  fear,  but  I  dare  not 
be  jealous,  my  darling.  You — you  are  quite  sure 
that  you  do  not  care  for  him  now  ? " 

"  As  a  friend,  yes.  But  I  have  nearly  told  you  all. 
As  I  said,  I  met  him  at  home  two  years  before  I  came 
away.  I  thought  him  every  way  charming,  perhaps 
a  little  original,  and  I  may  have  allowed  him  to  see 
it.  When  I  felt  convinced,  however,  that  I  could 
never  love  him,  I  told  him  so  honestly.  He  took  my 
decision  with  such  gentlemanliness  and  such  gen- 
erous feeling,  that  I  always  think  of  him  with  real 
friendship.  He  wrote  me  a  letter  which " 

"  Have  you  it  still  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  if  you  permit  me,  I  shall  always  keep 
it.  You  may  read  it.  It  seems  to  me  the  work  of 
an  honest,  earnest  man." 

"Allani  is  a  gentleman,  and  one  of  my  dearest 
friends.  He  is  an  Englishman  of  Italian  descent. 
His  grandfather  was  a  Piedmontese  noble,  and  one 
of  the  greatest  writers  and  philosophers  in  Italy. 
We  have  been  for  years,  as  our  fathers  had  been 
before  us,  the  best  of  friends.  By  a  strange  chance 
we  found  ourselves  on  the  same  steamer,  going  to 
South  America.  We  had  an  intuitive  understanding, 
a  feeling  that  we  both  loved  the  same  woman,  still 
your  name  was  never  mentioned  but  on  one  occasion 
between  us.  I  felt  sorry  for  him  then,  I  feel  more 
sorry  now.  His  loss  is  my  gain." 

A  handful  of  blossoms  were  thrown  into  Ethel's 
lap.  Looking  up,  they  saw  the  Countess  standing 
near.  She  laughed,  and  held  up  a  finger. 


328  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"Do  you  know  what  time  it  is?  No?  Nearly 
one  o'clock.  Everybody  is  waiting  for  dejeuner  a  la 
fourchette.  Only  people  in  love  can  be  so  supremely 
selfish.  We  have  been  watching  you,  and  Leon  is 
starved.  Come  at  once." 

Beaufort  rose  reluctantly,  Ethel  with  alacrity. 

"  How  thoughtless  we  have  been — let  us  go  at 
once,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  also  a  confession  to  make,  and  beg  you" 
(with  much  solemnity)  "to  appoint  a  rendezvous 
for  this  P.M.  Make  it  as  early  as  possible." 

Countess  Isaure  had  neared  them,  and  heard  the 
last  few  words.  She  spoke  up,  gaily : 

"  Nothing  can  be  done  this  afternoon.  No  pri- 
vate rendezvous.  Ethel  must  lie  down  after  break- 
fast. We  drive  at  three,  play  tennis  at  five,  and 
have  a  dinner  to-night  with  the  Count  and  Countess 
de  Fiorani.  Do  not  interrupt —  "  Beaufort  is  all  at- 
tention— "after  the  dinner  we  are  going  to  have  a 
long  promenade." 

"Just  the  thing,"  said  the  Earl  to  Ethel.  "I  will 
wait  until  then  to  make  full  confession  ;  I  can  have 
you  all  to  myself." 

"Yes,  by  the  seashore  ;  but  it's  not  at  all  secret," 
playfully,  "with  the  wicked  eyes  of  the  phosphors 
looking  on.  I  shall  feel  most  uncomfortable." 

"  You  are  a  selfish  woman.  You'  don't  want  even 
the  fishes  to  see  you.  I " 

"  Come  to  breakfast.      Venez,  je  vous  en  prie." 

"L'on  vient,  madame  la  Comtesse"  and  all  walked 
toward  the  house. 

Before  the  Earl  would  sit  down,  he  begged  to  send 


Marked  "fn  Haste"  329 

some  despatches.  He  exhausted  a  handful  of  blanks, 
dashed  off  hasty  messages,  looked  very  wise,  wholly 
content,  and  announced  himself  as  ready  at  last. 
He  was  even  hungry.  It  is  strange  how  the  most 
violent  of  passions  fades  into  insignificance  when 
one  has  had  no  breakfast.  Love  and  chops — pre- 
cisely !  Oh !  greatest  panacea  to  all  ills — a  good 
digestion ! 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE    OLD,    OLD    STORY. 

SHANKLIN-CHINE  is  one  of  the  prettiest  villages  on 
the  Isle  of  Wight.  Shanklin  has  a  history,  and  the 
word  "Chine"  means  "chink,"  or  something  similar 
in  old  Saxon.  The  origin  of  the  Chine  was  a  small 
stream  of  limpid  water  which,  falling  over  the  cliff 
for  centuries  untold,  has  worn  a  peculiar  channel 
some  two  hundred  feet  deep,  with  almost  equal 
width.  The  sides  are  covered  with  almost  tropical 
verdure.  Hanging  vines,  clematis,  creeping  ivy, 
and  laurel,  with  the  loveliest  of  flowering  shrubs, 
deck  the  sides,  top,  and  foot  of  the  cliff.  Birds  sing 
at  all  seasons,  water  trickles  and  ripples  in  and  out 
through  the  matchless  verdure,  and  in  the  merry 
month  of  June  nightingales  add  their  lovely  voices 
to  the  chorus  of  sweet-throated  warblers.  The 
brushwood  is  almost  too  dense,  and  a  deep  basin  of 
dark,  discolored  sandstone  holds  the  clear  waters. 
All  kinds  of  pebbles,  shells,  and  water  plants  {plantes 
grasses)  lie  beneath  the  surface.  They  look  up  with 
their  mocking  eyes  ;  the  tiny  blossoms  with  faint, 
half-hidden  bloom,  stretch  out  their  tendrils,  cling- 
ing to  the  old  rock  ;  a  myriad  of  living  things  creep 


Marked  "In  Haste"  331 

about  in  their  enchanted  basin,  and  life  in  sweetest 
nature  abounds. 

Some  fairy  with  magic  wand  must  have  made  the 
Chine.  She  struck  the  rock  with  her  silver  sceptre ; 
she  breathed  all  of  her  sweet  breath  upon  the  dead- 
ened sandstone  ;  she  looked  into  the  water  with  her 
clear  eyes — hence  the  mirrored  surface  of  the  pool. 
Or  perhaps  some  mermaid — Undine — has  left  her 
traces,  Lorelei  her  souvenir  ;  or  perhaps  a  fond  mis- 
tress, sighing  for  her  swain.  Whose  is  the  spirit  that 
has  bestowed  such  a  heritage  of  love,  romance,  and 
poetry  upon  this  beautiful  spot  ?  Was  it,  could  it 
have  been  Juliet  ? 

"  Her  eye  in  heaven 

Would  through  the  airy  region  stream  so  bright, 
That  birds  would  sing,  and  think  it  were  not  night." 

How  many  lovers  have  pledged  vows  to  the  mur- 
mur of  the  waters  of  the  Chine  !  how  many  Juliets 
have  stood  beside  its  verdant  cliff  ! 

After  dinner  it  was  proposed  visiting  the  Under- 
cliff  or  Landslip,  also  to  see  the  artificial  ruins  of 
Cook  Castle  by  night.  It  is  impossible  to  find  a 
place  in  the  world  more  beautiful  than  this  cele- 
brated Undercliff. 

Imagine  the  picturesqueness  of  the  scene.  There 
are  sylvan  dells,  rocky  terraces,  deep  ravines — one 
continuous  and  splendid  succession  of  rich  and 
varied  nature.  The  Landslip  communicates  with  the 
beach,  which  is  most  beautiful  and  safe.  Every  one 
goes  to  see  the  Undercliff ;  every  one  must  see  the 
ruins. 


332  Marked  "///  Haste" 

Countess  de  Fiorani  and  her  husband,  the  Count, 
were  old  friends,  and  a  welcome  addition  to  the 
party.  The  Countess  was  fair — blonde,  blue-eyed, 
with  the  slight  embonpoint  that  so  well  becomes  some 
women.  The  Count  was  slender  as  a  young  sapling. 
His  eyes  were  fine  and  dark,  his  smile  particularly 
gay,  and,  together,  they  were  a  bright,  agreeable, 
and  most  charming  couple. 

Beaufort,  of  course,  monopolized  Miss  Leslie.  As 
they  were  walking  on  the  beach,  Countess  Isaure 
came  to  them.  What  a  pretty  woman  she  was,  to  be 
sure.  Her  eyes  were  dark,  sparkling,  yet  tender. 
Her  mouth  was  small  and  very  mobile  ;  her  figure 
charming  ;  her  waist  so  small  that  one's  two  hands 
might  easily  span  it.  In  French  she  had  une  taille 
adorable,  and  in  English — well,  it's  quite  the  same 
thing,  but  no  language  can  exaggerate  her  sweet 
naturalness  of  manner  or  affectionate  solicitude  for 
those  she  loves.  She  came  toward  them,  and  said  in 
her  pretty  English  : 

"You  are  certainly  two  dreadful  spoons;  but  I 
suppose  we  must  forgive  you.  Mme.  de  Fiorani  is 
already  au  courant  de  tout,  and " 

"Spare  my  blushes,"  said  the  Earl. 

"Permit  me  to  hide  myself,"  said  Ethel,  "or 
jump  into  the  sea.  It  is  quite  too  dreadful.  Why," 
turning  to  Beaufort,  "do  you  make  yourself  so  con- 
spicuous?" 

"Why  do  you  make  me  make  myself  so  conspicu- 
ous ?  It  is  your  fault.  How  can  I  help  showing 
that  I  love  you  ?  " 

This  was  unanswerable.     He  took  her  hand  and 


Marked  "In  Haste"  333 

kissed  it — kissed  it  many  times.  She  evidently  did 
not  object. 

The  Countess  groaned,  and  held  up  her  white 
manina.  Her  eyes  glittered  as  brightly  as  the  gems 
on  her  fingers.  The  tone  of  her  voice  was  airy  and 
mocking. 

"  Yes,  she  knows  all.  We  have  decided  to  pay  no 
attention  to  you  two,  only  our  direction  now  is  toward 
the  old  ruins.  Don't  get  lost,  and  follow  us  if  you 
will ;  and,  my  lord,  pray  take  good  care  of  my 
guest.  A  tout-a-F  heure  !  I  am  so  glad  that  you  have 
found  out  that  you  love  each  other.  I  have  quite 
decided  on  my  dress  for  the  wedding,  and  you  must 
give  me  your  photograph  in  costume  taken  together. 
Sans  adieu.  I  think  just  as  you  are  would  be  char- 
mant.  No?  Well,  I  know  the  exact  pose,  only  you 
must  let  me  know  beforehand.  I  think " 

"  Countess  Isaure,"  said  de  Fiorani. 

"  Man  cher  Count  ? " 

"Do  you  wish  to  hear  something  quite  shocking?" 

"Naturally." 

"  We  all  do,"  said  Beaufort ;  "  what  is  it  ? " 

"Leon  has  just  remembered  the  following  :  As  we 

passed  a  little  chapel  once,  in  Savoie,  we  read 

Oh — I  cannot  tell  this  before  a  young  lady." 

Count  de  Fiorani  ceased  speaking.  In  vain  the 
endeavor  to  make  him  go  on.  "  I  am  a  respecter  of 
youth,"  he  said,  firmly  ;  "  some  other  time,  when  Miss 
has  become  Mrs.,  then  you  shall  hear  the  very  good 
story." 

Mrs.  Adrian  was  laughing  heartily.  "Just  like 
the  Count,"  said  she  ;  then  she  laughed  again. 


334  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  How  provoking  !  " 

"  My  love,"  Mrs.  Adrian's  voice  was  delightfully 
mellow,  "you  cannot  hear  this.  It  is  one  of  the 
penalties  exacted  by  your  youth." 

"  I  hope,  as  madame,  I  shall  hear  everything  and 
laugh  myself  to  death." 

"  You  probably  will,"  said  Leon,  cheerfully  ;  "  to 
death  or  to  life.  But  ta-ta,  we  must  move  on." 

Beaufort  drew  closer  to  his  fiancee.  The  night  was 
beautiful.  Near  the  shore  a  long  band  of  fitful  light 
marked  the  phosphorescent  line  of  the  crested  waves  ; 
the  white  pebbles  slipped  back  into  the  water  with  a 
continuous  gurgle.  The  caps  were  glistening  with 
sparkling  foam.  Away  off  as  far  as  eye  could  reach, 
a  shimmering  shaft  of  light  fairly  pierced  the  centre 
of  the  sea  and  bore  down  through  the  heart  of  the 
ocean  straight  to  the  very  edge  of  the  beach  where 
they  were  standing. 

The  Earl  looked  in  the  face  of  his  dear  charge. 

"  See  !  there  is  a  huge  boulder  just  away  from  the 
shore.  You  will  sit  there  upon  it,  and  I  will  throw 
myself  on  the  sand  at  your  feet.  You  must  now 
hear  my  confession,"  He  led  her  to  the  spot  and 
helped  her  into  place.  A  furred  cloak  enveloped 
her,  for  even  in  June  there  is  always  a  stiff  breeze  at 
night  at  the  seaside.  Looking  into  her  calm  eyes, 
he  commenced  the  recital  of  a  most  curious  tale. 

She  listened  amazed.  Before  he  had  finished  her 
heart  spoke.  The  voice  was  broken  by  emotion,  but 
her  great  love  found  expression  in  a  few  words. 

"  What  you  have  told  me  passes  comprehension  ! 
I  give  myself  to  you  freely — gladly.  I  loved  you 


Marked  "In  Haste"  335 

from  the  first  moment  I  saw  you,  but  I  dared  not 
permit  myself  to  think  of  any  one  but  my  poor 
brother.  Then,  when  he  died  I  vowed  to  find  out 
the  real  culprit,  and  at  least  avenge  his  memory. 
Until  that  vow  was  accomplished  I  could  never 
think  of  love.  I  hoped,  in  the  meantime,  to  hear 
from  you  ;  but  I  now  understand  your  silence." 

"  Remember  that  I  never  saw  a  paper,  Allani  never 
spoke  of  your  family,  and  I  had  forbidden  Brandon 
to  ever  speak  aught  of  you.  I  was  waiting  for  one 
word  from  your  lips  ;  so  sure  that,  sooner  or  later, 
you  would  make  some  sign.  Destiny  had  thrown  us 
together,  destiny  would  reunite  us.  In  nearly  two 
years  you  never  once  sent  to  me." 

She  blushed.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  thought 
of  doing  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Sending  you  one  little  word,  saying  I  am  free ; 
but  how  should  I  have  dared  ?  Never  to  have  at- 
tempted to  see  me  !  Remember  you  left  me  in  such 
anger.  Besides,  how  could  I  know  but — but  that 
you  already  loved  some  one  else  ?  " 

"  That  you  knew  was  utterly  impossible,  and 
highly  improbable.  In  fact,  it  could  not  be." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  do  not  know !  Men 
change  ;  it  might  have  been  possible." 

"Tell  me,  did  you  never  suspect  who  Felden 
was  ? " 

"  Never  ;  but  a  propos,  the  check  I " 

"  The  five  thousand  francs  belong  to  me.  I  shall 
keep  them  in  a  place  of  honor.  Just  to  think,  the 
first  (and  perhaps  last)  money  that  I  have  ever 


336  Marked  "In  Haste" 

earned !  I  am  proud  of  it,  but  God  knows,  my 
work  was  hard  enough.  Once  you  frightened  me. 
Do  you  recollect  ? " 

"No." 

"  It  was  at  the  American  Minister's.  You  told  me 
you  thought  that  you  recognized  my  voice." 

"  Well,  you  see  that  I  did.  Thought,  indeed."  But 
suddenly  :  "Why  did  you  cease  coming  for  so  long 
a  time  ? " 

"  That  was  the  reason.  I  feared  recognition.  It 
was  impossible  always  to  disguise  my  feelings  as 
well  as  my  voice.  „  I  was  burning  with  jealousy. 
You  do  not  know,  but  when  I  said  I  knew  all,  I 
thought  I  did.  The  day  of  your  soiree,  Brandon 
breakfasted  in  the  Luxembourg  Quarter,  and  heard 
by  chance  some  Americans  talking.  They  spoke  of 
a  very  young  man  who  had  committed  forgery  and 
murder,  and  who  had  baffled  the  authorities  for  a 
year,  and  of  his  flight  from  San  Francisco  accom- 
panied by  a  beautiful  woman  supposed  to  be  his 
wife,  but  in  reality  his  paramour.  There  was  a 
rumor  that  she  was  living  in  Paris  in  fine  style, 
received  in  the  best  of  society,  and  deceiving  the 
whole  world.  Although  Brandon  had  met  Mrs. 
Adrian  some  time  ago,  he  dreaded  knowing  more. 
You  might  both  have  been  innocent  victims,  and 
you  yourself  might  have  been  implicated " 

"  How  can  you  say  such  things  of  me  ?" 

"My  dear  love,"  he  answered,  "I  am  a  man  of 
the  world.  Remember  that  many  more  extraordi- 
nary things  than  that  have  really  happened.  I  was 
racked  with  torment,  thinking  that  you  were  not 


Marked  "In  Haste"  337 

married.  After  my  conversation  with  Brandon,  and 
only  on  the  night  of  the — the  death,  did  I  realize 
that,  no  matter  what  you  were,  I  loved  you  enough 
to  ignore  the  past.  Besides  what  Brandon  had 
heard,  he  also  had  a  slip  (from  some  vile  Parisian 
correspondent  to  a  Philadelphia  paper),  hinting  at 
many  mysteries,  the  expected  expost  of  a  family  in 
high  life,  with  bits  of  scandal  promised  tempting 
enough  to  satisfy  the  taste  of  the  most  sensational. 
How  could  one  but  remark  the  coincidence,  and 
knowing  what  I  did,  I  feared  the  worst,  with  these 
damning  circumstances  constantly  before  me.  I 
never  loved  you  less  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  only  felt 
your  position  more  desperately  and  more  deeply. 
I  had  refused  to  give  ear  to  what  Athol  told  me. 
Imagine  the  marvellous  denouement  of  the  night  fol- 
lowing the  sotre'e.  Try*  and  realize  with  what  grief 
I  felt  myself  forced  to  believe  in  what  he  had  re- 
lated me !  Were  not  the  circumstances  exact  in 
every  particular  ?  I  still  doubted,  until  I  heard  a 
man  raving  of  crime  and  blood.  Do  you  remember 
what  I  offered — all  I  offered  !  My  love  must  have 
been  great  to  overlook  everything.  In  the  very  face 
of  the  most  condemning  evidence,  I  realized  that,  in 
spite  of  all,  I  could  still  love  you,  and  protect  you 
with  my  name.  I  could  not  reconcile  myself,  how- 
ever, to  your  hard-heartedness  in  letting  me  go,  per- 
haps for  ever,  without  one  word  of  hope.  It  seemed 
so  unnatural,  so  extraordinary,  when  you  had  con- 
fessed that  you  loved  me,  to  be  so  unbending.  I 
could  not  understand  it." 

"  A  vision  of  what  I  had  to  accomplish  determined 


338  Marked  "In  Haste" 

me,"  she  said.  "  Also,  I  dared  not  accept  the  sacri- 
fice of  yourself  at  such  a  time  ;  nor  could  I  bear  to 
think  of  ever  bringing  a  name  to  an  honest  home 
that  was  not  as  clear  in  the  world's  eyes  as  your 
own.  If  afterward  you  should  come  to  me,  all  would 
be  well.  If  not,  we  had  better  separate.  I  still 
wished,  however,  to  make  one  effort  to  see  you,  at 
least  to  send  a  line " 

"  Send  it  to-morrow,"  said  the  Earl,  promptly. 
"  I  will  answer  in  person." 

She  looked  fondly  at  him.  "  There  is  nothing 
more  to  explain,  dear.  Shall  we  join  the  party  ? " 

"Yes,"  half  reluctantly,  "I  suppose  we  must.  But 
you  have  forgotten  something." 

"I?" 

"  Yes.     Tell  me  how  much  you  love  me." 

She  must  have  given  him  a  satisfactory  answer. 
It  is  a  pity  that  these  little  scenes  between  lovers 
cannot  be  quite  secret  Venus,  looking  down  upon 
them,  laughed,  and  told  it  to  the  other  stars.  The 
little  waves  coming  in  to  the  shore  carried  the  news 
back  again  out  to  sea.  The  pebbles  seemed  to  chat- 
ter on  the  sand  ;  the  myriad  phosphorescent  eyes 
glowed  and  glared  upon  them,  then  dived  under 
the  waves  with  a  most  malicious  gleam.  The  night 
wind  stirred  in  the  distant  trees,  the  many  thousand 
voices  of  nature  kept  up  murmuring  sounds  that 
said,  as  plainly  as  possible,  "  We  hear  you,  we  un- 
derstand, we  are  witnesses."  The  lovers  wandered 
on.  The  dense  foliage  of  the  Landslip  surrounded 
them  with  constant  and  flickering  shadows.  Like 
Pandora  and  Epimetheus  in  the  gardens  of  ancient 


Marked  "In  Haste"  339 

Hellas,  their  thoughts  were  attuned  to  the  mysterious 
charm  of  enchanting  night.  To  them  the  whole 
world  was  poetry,  and  the  refrain  of  its  minstrelsy 
was  love.  They  sang  with  the  chorus  of  birds  : 

"  Every  flutter  of  the  wing, 
Every  note  o£  song  we  sing, 
Every  murmur,  every  tone, 
Is  of  love  and  love  alone." 

"  Hark  !  listen  !     Hear  how  sweetly  overhead 

The  feathered  flute-players  pipe  their  songs  of  love, 
And  echo  answers,  love,  and  only  love." 

On,  on,  through  thicket  and  grove  they  still  wan- 
dered. There  was  only  a  vague  idea  now  of  rejoin- 
ing the  others.  Where  could  one  find  them  ?  Some 
people  passed,  but  at  great  intervals.  No  one 
seemed  to  recognize  the  Earl  and  his  companion. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  all  lovers  look  alike.  Stray- 
ing couples  in  deserted  woodlands,  fair  night  and 
starry  skies,  come  home  to  every  heart.  Who  has 
not  wandered  by  love's  Elysian  streams  ?  Who  has 
not  accepted  a  betrothal  witnessed  by  Saturn's  triple 
circlet  ?  Who  has  not  heard  and  repeated  vows  of 
love  attested  to  by  all  the  host  of  Nature's  heavenly 
satellites  ?  Who  has  not  done  this  ?  who  of  us,  in 
fact,  has  never  been  in  love  ?  " 

The  sound  of  chattering  voices  broke  upon  the  air ; 
then  like  an  avalanche,  the  party  came  upon  them. 

"  Naughty  creatures,"  said  Isaure,  "  we  are  just  re- 
turning home.  Where  have  you  been  ? " 

"Why,  wThy — we  have  been  here,  we  were  just 
coming  to  meet  you,"  said  Ethel. 


340  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"  We  have  been  telling  each  other  something  so 
very  interesting,"  said  Beaufort.  "Time  has  flown 
unawares."  Then  he  whispered  to  the  Countess  : 

"  Of  course,  one  must  forgive  you.  N'est-ce  pas, 
Leon?  we  were  once  flirts  ourselves." 

Count  Vandalin  smiled  for  reply.  He  drew 
Ethel's  hand  under  his  arm,  and  under  penalty  of  a 
great  forfeit,  forbade  her  speaking  to  Beaufort  again 
that  evening.  Then  they  all  went  toward  the  house. 

Alone  in  her  room,  Ethel  threw  open  her  window, 
and  looked  out  on  the  night.  Again  she  heard  her 
lover's  voice,  again  she  wandered  over  the  enchanted 
beach.  Weariness  finally  overcame  her.  She  slept. 
Her  lips  repeated  mechanically  again  and  again  his 
words.  Like  a  goddess  she  would  slumber  till  dawn, 
and  waking  on  the  morrow,  find  again  her  Helios. 
Added  to  the  voice  of  nightingales  was  that  of 
zephyrs,  stealing  through  the  room  singing  softly, 
ever  singing : 

"  Come  from  thy  caverns  dark  and  deep, 
O  son  of  Erebus  and  Night; 
All  sense  of  hearing  and  of  sight 
Enfold  in  the  serene  delight 
And  quietude  of  sleep  ! 

"  But  open  wide  the  gate  of  Horn 
Whence,  beautiful  as  plants,  rise 
The  dreams  of  truth  ;  with  starry  eyes, 
And  all  the  wondrous  prophecies 
And  visions  of  the  morn." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

SEA-BATHING. 

IT  sometimes  rains  at  Shanklin.  The  day  following 
Ethel's  arrival  was  one  of  such  memory.  It  poured 
so  persistently  that  going  out  of  doors  was  impossi- 
ble. The  Count  and  Countess,  however,  made  it 
very  pleasant  for  everybody.  There  was  parlor  cro- 
quet, cards,  fortune  telling,  and  another  charming 
dinner  at  six  with  the  de  Fiorani.  As  usual  at  the 
seashore,  the  most  violent  storms  come  and  go  in 
a  few  short  hours,  and  leave  scarcely  a  trace.  Only 
the  green  trees  are  greener,  the  flowers  in  the 
Chine  hang  their  pretty  heads,  new  ravines  come 
to  light  in  the  landslip,  and  the  beach  is  heavy  with 
clogged  sand.  No  bathing,  only  rest  at  home.  The 
salt  air  always  smells  sweeter  after  a  storm.  The 
waves  roll  mountain  high,  the  sun  comes  forth  from 
smoky  vapors. 

"Now  overhead  a  rainbow  bursting  through 

The  scattering  clouds,  shone,  spanning  the  dark  sea 

Resting  its  bright  base  on  the  quivering  blue ; 
And  all  within  its  arch  appeared  to  be 

Clearer  than  that  without  ;  and  its  wide  hue 
Waxed  broad  and  waving  like  a  banner  free. 


342  Marked  "In  Haste. 

When  four  o'clock  came  it  had  already  cleared  up, 
and  at  dinner-time  the  party  went  to  the  house  of  the 
de  Fiorani.  The  walk  along  the  old  country  road 
was  long  but  delightful.  Fancy  being  shut  up  in 
the  house  a  whole  day  at  a  watering  place. 

They  had  a  delightful  French  dinner.  The  cottage 
was  a  tiny  chalet  in  a  perfect  bower  of  verdure.  The 
dining-room  looked  out  upon  a  lovely  garden  where 
the  sweetest  flowers  in  Shanklin  bloom.  The  night- 
ingales commenced  singing,  the  odor  of  revivified 
nature  embalmed  everything  about  the  little  place. 
Isaure  had  prohibited  flirting,  and  Beaufort  behaved 
admirably.  He  was  happy  in  being  near  his  love. 
Many  things  were  talked  about  at  this  dinner — the 
last  court  ball,  and  a  friend's  pumps. 

"  How  did  he  manage  ?  "  said  Leon — "  man  cher, 
he  is  not  a  Hercules — he  is  very  thin,  au  contraire" 

"  Oh,"  briskly,  "  his  costumer — ah  !  my  tailor  ar- 
ranged all  that.  He  had  so  many  orders  before,  how- 
ever, that  he  barely  got  there  in  time.  What  a  thing 
to  make  up  one's  mind  to  go  to  a  court  ball." 

"  Yes,  and  one's  legs,"  adds  the  Count. 

"  I  saw  the  Prince  day  before  yesterday  ;  what  a 
handsome  man  he  is.  I  think  his  face  is  really  most 
agreeable."  Mrs.  Adrian's  voice  was  calm  and  quite 
unamerican. 

Count  Leon  laughed.  "  He's  a  capital  good  fel- 
low any  way,  and  no  fool.  Do  you  know  what  he 
said  at  Cowes  the  other  day  ?  " 

"No,  what  was  it?  "  a  chorus  of  voices. 

"He  met  Poole,  and  chatted  (as  he  often  does) 
in  a  friendly  fashion.  Then  he  said,  indifferently  : 


Marked  "In  Haste"  343 

'Well,  how  do  you  find  Cowes  ?'  'Awh,  your  Royal 
Highness,  Cowes — of  course — awh,  yes,  Cowes — nice 
place,  your  Royal  Highness,  but  the  society  is  rather 
mixed.'  '  Hang  it  all,  Poole,'  responded  the  Prince  ; 
'you  can't  expect  to  find  us  all  tailors.' " 

"  What  a  jolly  story  !  of  course  it's  true  ? " 

Beaufort  asked  the  question. 

"Perfectly,"  said  Leon,  "and  I  know  several 
others  which " 

"Spare  us,  dear,"  said  Isaure  ;  "besides,  it's  time 
to  return  home."  The  hostess  pleaded  in  vain. 
Isaure  is  a  slender  woman,  but  when  her  mind  is 
made  up  she  has  quite  the  determination  of  a  very 
stout  one. 

They  walked  over  to  the  hotel,  along  the  dark 
hedges,  straight  by  the  roadway.  The  longest  route, 
but  the  prettiest.  The  longest  is  always  the  prettiest 
and  the  nicest  in  the  country  ;  when  one  is  return- 
ing from  a  pleasant  house  with  one's  lady-love  on 
one's  arm.  The  amiable  hostess,  with  her  husband, 
kindly  consented  to  "walk  along  too  ;"  then  they 
separated  for  the  evening  at  the  door  of  the  hotel, 
with  the  promise  of  meeting  in  the  morning  at  an 
early  hour.  At  nine  o'clock  Isaure's  voice  was 
heard. 

"Fine  weather." 

"  Glorious,"  said  Ethel. 

"Do  come,  Leon." 

"Yes,  dear." 

"We  are  all  waiting." 

Beaufort  was  already  outside  of  the  hotel  gate.  A 
young  gentleman  stood  beside  him. 


344  Marked  "In  Haste" 

"Mr.  Brandon  I"  said  Ethel,  "what  a  real  pleas- 
ure! This  is — My  lord,"  turning  to  the  Earl,  "was 
this  intended  as  a  surprise  ?  " 

"A  very  great  one,"  said  Beaufort.  "I  knew 
nothing  of  it  myself.  This  morning  Bell  handed  me 
a  note,  saying  that  Mr.  Brandon  had  arrived.  Here 
he  is  ;  and — and,"  in  an  undertone,  "  we  have  been  up 
since  seven  talking,  and  I  have  explained  everything 
to  him.  He  is  delighted.  Oh,  I  knew  he  would 
be." 

Ethel  blushed.  How  strange  that  a  constitution- 
ally pale  young  woman  can  always  blush  just  at  the 
right  moment. 

Mr.  Brandon  kissed  her  hand.  "Let  me  add  my 
sincerest  congratulations,  and  beg  you  to  forgive  my 
once  unhappy  interference." 

She  pardoned  him  with  her  sweetest  smile. 

"Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead."  They  never 
referred  to  that  again. 

Mrs.  Adrian  would  bathe.  Louise,  Isaure's  maid, 
had  a  Frenchy-looking  bundle.  Bell  was  ostensibly 
walking  near  her.  He  had  another  bundle.  His 
cold,  old  English-valet  eyes  were  now  and  then  cast 
half  tenderly  upon  her  ;  upon  Louise.  Romances 
are  not  always  born  under  silken  canopies  and  cra- 
dled beneath  point  (T  A I  en  $  on.  Poor  people  have 
been  known  to  make  love  to  each  other,  and  to  en- 
joy it.  We  do  not  understand  how  it  is  possible,  but 
it  is  so.  Do  not  for  one  moment  think,  however, 
that  a  well-to-do  valet,  with  a  real  peer  for  his  mas- 
ter, can  come  within  that  category.  No  more  can- 
the  fine  waiting-maid  of  a  countess,  who  deigns  to 


Marked  "In  Haste"  345 


dress  her  mistress,  and  to  undress  her  in  order 
dress  herself.  Louise  tripped  along.  She  reached, 
nay,  had  the  style.  The  next  thing  noticed  was  that 
Bell  had  two  bundles  instead  of  one.  Oh,  ensnared 
valet !  Oh,  giddy  girl !  where  will  ye  both  end  ? 
Probably  at  a  fancy  ball,  dressed  in  your  master's 
best  clothes. 

At  the  beach  the  crowd  was  animated  and  mostly 
old-English.  What  a  lovely  promenade  is,  to  be 
sure,  a  long  sweep  of  white-sanded  shore,  dozens  of 
little  houses  upon  wheels  drawn  up  in  line  just  on 
the  edge  of  the  water,  and  a  continual  hum  of  merry 
voices.  The  well-seasoned  shrieks  from  many  cour- 
ageous dowagers  constantly  escaped  from  the  waves. 
The  bathing-teachers,  strong,  herculean  men  and 
women,  were  leading  trembling  girls  out  to  sea  ; 
young  maidens  blushed  as  their  bare  ankles  grated 
against  the  sand.  Newly  married  couples*  tenderly 
made  their  way  among  the  older  salts  ;  a  plunge 
here — a  hallo  there— and  the  morning's  work  was 
fairly  under  way. 

Count  Leon,  with  the  other  gentlemen,  had  already 
bathed.  Mrs.  Adrian  stepped  into  No.  10,  Isaure 
into  No.  u,  and  Ethel  decided  not  to  try  it  that  day. 

They  selected  a  charming  bit  of  white-pebbled 
sand  and  threw  themselves  upon  it.  Shawls,  cush- 
ions, rugs,  everything  was  provided  for  comfort,  and 
half-sitting,  half-reclining,  they  watched  the  merry 
bathers.  A  charming,  full-bearded  Englishman 
joined  them.  His  name  was  Grayson — he  was  heir- 
presumptive  to  a  title  and  large  estates.  Naturally 
he  made  a  delightful  addition  to  the  party.  He  was 
IS* 


346  Marked  "In  Haste" 

an  old  friend  of  Beaufort,  and  also  of  Count  Leon. 
Some  Americans  were  talking  in  a  group  to  the  left. 
To  Ethel's  surprise,  she  recognized  some  old  friends 
in  Mr.  de  Quincey,  Mr.  Darvies,  and  Mr.  Godwin, 
of  San  Francisco,  besides  a  group  of  well-known 
American  yachtsmen.  They  recognized  Cyril  Or- 
mond,  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world,  a  success 
in  every  way.  His  honest,  handsome  face  was  quite 
as  welcome  a  sight  on  the  sands  of  Shanklin  as  pac- 
ing the  deck  of  his  piratically  named  yacht,  the 
"  Brigand."  Looking  out  to  sea  was  the  well-known 
Lewis  Jansen,  who  sent  some  canvas-back  ducks  to 
her  Majesty.  Near  him  was  his  aspiring  friend, 
Roger  Millien,  who  expected  to  go  to  Osborne  to 
help  eat  them.  Handsome  Jean  Warden  was  non- 
chalantly twirling  his  blonde  moustache.  He  looked, 
however,  quite  the  master  of  the  "  Undaunted." 
The  "  Marquis  of  Hoboken"  was  the  only  one  who 
seemed  a  little  disenchanted.  His  fine,  piercing 
gray  eyes  took  in  the  scene.  "It's  all  well  enough, 
boys,"  he  said,  "  to  talk  '  Solent '  and  '  Isle  of  Wight,' 
but  give  me  plain  Martha's  Vineyard  and  a  bit  of 
American  coast." 

More  new-comers  !  Just  then  two  charming  gen- 
tlemen came  up  to  Miss  Leslie,  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Mars,  the  Oppenheims. 

"  Really,"  said  Ethel,  turning  to  Beaufort,  "  you 
must  not  be  jealous,  but  I  have  a  special  admiration 
for  these  old  friends.  One  forgets  their  enormous 
wealth,  they  are  so  amiable.  Mr.  Gratiot  once  said," 
laughing  frankly,  "  that  they  had  all  the  money  that 
the  Rothschilds  had  not." 


Marked  "In  Haste"  347 

"What  a  jolly  description,"  said  Beaufort ;  "and 
— present  me  to  your  friends." 

What  a  series  of  introductions.  Everybody  must 
know  everybody  else  at  the  seashore.  At  last  places 
were  found  for  all,  and  they  looked  out  upon  the 
sea.  One  noticed  that  the  peculiar  costumes  of  the 
lady  bathers  were  thrown  into  bold  relief  by  the  in- 
discreet waves.  Why  was  the  sun  so  bright  and 
hot  ?  Why  were  the  waters,  for  miles  out,  so  clear  ! 
Why  were  those  near  the  shore  like  pellucid  mirrors 
reflecting  and  magnifying  every  living  creature  be- 
neath their  surface  ?  Why  ?  Why  ? 

I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  It  often  happens  at  the 
seaside,  it  very  often  happens  at  Shanklin.  These 
traitorous  waters  betrayed  even  the  most  innocent 
who  had  confided  in  them.  Perhaps,  before  trusting 
so  much  to  the  "  briny,"  it  would  have  been  as  well 
to  look  more  particularly  at  one's  own  precaution 
for  protection  from  public  gaze  ;  but  we  do  not  mor- 
alize, we  are — cosmopolitan. 

The  French  bathing  costume  is  a  delightful  sugges- 
tion, the  German  a  petticoat  protection,  the  American 
an  illusion,  the  English  a  revelation.  At  Shanklin 
(we  speak  now  of  Shanklin),  the  garment  then  d,  la 
mode  was  voluminous.  It  consisted  of  an  enormous 
circular  or  cloak  with  long  tabs.  It  was  made  of 
most  diaphanous  material,  not  unlike  the  airy  fabric 
with  which  the  traditional  Greek  slave  is  enveloped. 
The  handsome  maid,  wife,  mother,  or  grandmother, 
of  perfidious  Albion,  clouds  herself  with  this  most 
intense  of  all  bathing  costumes.  Underneath,  be 
it  understood,  nature,  in  all  the  grace  of  her  un- 


348  Marked  "In  Haste." 

dulating  sweetness,  is  left  in  untrammelled  plastic 
nudity.  She  is  amply — nay  amphi-theatrically — pro- 
tected from  the  gaze  of  those  who  sit  upon  the  shore, 
those  wretched  loungers  who  go  to  Shanklin  for — 
the  season  ;  for  the  beach,  like  the  theatre,  has  its 
bald-headed  row,  and  the  proscenium  boxes  hold  the 
young  bloods,  the  gallery  the  gods,  and  patent  re- 
spectability sits  in  the  orchestra  stalls. 

Beaufort  and  his  party  were  naturally  near  the 
music.  The  band  just  then  struck  up  the  can-can 
from  Belle  H el  cue. 

"  Great  Heaven  !  "  said  Leon,  "  look  !" 

All  looked.  Of  course,  they  were  seated  on  what 
is  called  the  ladies'  side.  The  view  was  perfect. 
The  scene  in — (the  water) — describable. 

One  of  the  Greek  slaves  was  freed  from  every  re- 
straint. She  was  disentangled  from  the  strong  clasp 
of  the  bather,  her  still  youthful  blood  was  leaping  in 
her  veins,  her  limbs  felt  an  undine  lightness.  She 
would  swim,  alone,  free,  and  unconfined.  She  had 
cast  off  prejudice  and— and  her  mantel.  (Perhaps, 
after  Joseph's  rejection  of  his  own  it  no  longer 
had  value  in  any  one's  eyes.)  She  was  ambling  un- 
der the  limpid  waves  as  woman  first  came  into 
the  world.  The  treacherous,  diaphanous  drapery 
floated  on  the  surface  of  the  water  as  a  cloud 
floats  in  the  empyrean,  or  a  white  pond-lily  on  the 
Lake  of  Lethe.  It  was  floating,  floating  unconfined 
above,  and  my  lady  was  floating,  floating  uncovered 
below. 

"  They  all  do  it,"  said  the  Count  ;  "  we  have  been 
here  three  successive  seasons." 


Marked  "In  Haste."  349 

"  There  goes  another,"  said  de  Fiorani.  "  She  has 
uncovered  one  tab  of  the  circular.  She  looks  like 
a  swan." 

"A  propos"  said  Leon,  "I  have  an  impromptu 
conundrum  just  ready.  'What  was  the  mission  of 
the  swan  upon  earth  ?'  Guess  !  guess  again  !  it's  so 
simple.  Impossible  ! — it  is  so  simple  no  one  can  but 
guess  it.  Answer  :  '  He  came  to  a  young  woman  to — 
to — mis — lead  her.'  Don't  you  see  the  simplicity 
of  the  thing?  Leda " 

"  Oh  !  never  do  such  a  thing  again,  Leon." 
Isaure's  voice  was  loudest.  She  had  finished  her 
bath  and  approached  just  in  time  to  hear  the  im- 
promptu. She  was  poking  her  parasol  in  the  sand. 
All  laughed,  however.  It's  so  easy  to  laugh  at  an- 
other's folly. 

Bell  came  and  begged  to  see'  his  master.  He 
handed  him  a  pile  of  telegrams  and  some  letters. 
The  Earl  had  given  orders  that  his  mail  should  be 
brought  down  to  the  beach.  He  knew  what  he  was 
expecting. 

Another  one  of  the  pleasures  at  the  seashore — 
lying  on  the  white  sand,  near  those  one  loves  ;  going 
over  the  morning's  mail  with  news  of  those  who 
love  us  ;  in  sight  of  the  bathers,  in  sound  of  the 
sea,  content  with  all  the  world,  and,  rarer  joy,  con- 
tent with  one's  self. 

"  A  propos  of  letters,"  said  Beaufort,  "where  is 
Allani's  ?  You  promised  to  show  it  me  ? " 

She  drew  it  from  her  pocket,  explaining  softly  : 
"You  will  understand,  dear.  He — he  had  told  me 
that  he  loved  me.  He  swore  to  be  my  friend,  but 


350  Marked  "In  Haste" 

he  said  farewell.  This  letter  was  sent  in  response  to 
my  written  refusal  to  accept  his  offer." 

"  We  will  read  it  together  going  home,"  and  they 
left  the  beach. 

As  they  came  to  the  Chine  he  stopped.  They 
chose  a  sheltered  spot.  "This  is  the  place,  dear." 
Then  he  read,  she  looking  at  him  the  while. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  ETHEL  : — Your  letter  has  given  me 
exquisite  pain.  I  humbly  entreat  for  your  pardon,  if 
I  have  merited  your  just  displeasure.  Let  me  only 
plead  that  my  language  must  have  been  a  false  echo 
of  my  thoughts,  if  it  failed  to  convey  to  you  their  per- 
fect homage,  with  some  faint  expression  of  the  happi- 
ness and  honor  I  derived  from  my  visit.  I  have  often 
wondered  before,  what  Lazarus  would  have  felt  had 
Dives  given  him  that  one  drop  of  water  for  which  he 
prayed,  and  whether  it  would  not  have  increased  his 
thirst.  I  know  the  secret  now,  and  still  will  have  a 
great  longing  until  I  see  you  again.  I  cannot  deny 
myself  the  anticipation  of  that  happiness  some  day, 
but — I  shall  see  you  very  seldom.  With  such  beauty 
and  genius  for  a  freight,  your  ship  will  sail,  with  its 
white  canvas  spread,  to  happy  islands,  while  mine 
is  stranded  ;  and  on  the  uncertain  seas  of  life  thus 
much  at  least  is  sure,  that  the  rich  galleon  upon  which 
your  royal  standard  is  displayed  will  exchange  no  sig- 
nals with  the  poor  bark  whence  flutters  my  small  rag 
of  bunting,  faded  and  wind-tossed.  To  rne,  the  loss. 

"A  poet  only  could  answer  your  gentle  letter  fit- 
tingly, and  I  wish  that  I  were  a  poet  high  and- noble 
enough  to  aspire  to  your  friendship,  as  I  can  have — 
only  that.  A  mere  versifier  might  write  something, 
though  unworthy  to  be  read,  if  he  remembered  how 
the  gladness  which  your  presence  brings  must  al- 
ways be  dashed  at  the  thought  of  losing  it.  He 
would  say  in  rhyme — 


Marked  "In  Haste"  351 

"  Frown.jiot,  sweet  maid,  if  when  with  thee 

I  feel  not  rapture  wholly. 
For,  aye,  the  heart  that's  filled  with  joy 
Runs  o'er  with  melancholy. 

To  streams  that  .glide  in  noon  the  shade 

From  summer  skies  is  given  ; 
And  if  my  brow  reflect  the  cloud, 

'Tis  but  the  cloud  of  Heaven. 

Thine  image  glassed  within  my  soul 

So  well  the  mirror  keepeth. 
That  chide  me  not,  if  with  the  light, 

The  shadow  also  sleepeth. 

"  Can  I  forget  the  happy  hours  spent  in  your  so- 
ciety? Can  I  forget  that  you  offer  me  your  friend- 
ship ?  Can  I  forget  that,  where'er  I  may-  wander,  I 
have  the  proud  right  to  wear  an  amulet,  your  regard, 
in  my  bosom  ?  My  heart  is  torn,  but  it  has  known 
regret. 

"  Permit  me  then  to  remain,  with  the  deepest  ad- 
miration and  respect,  dear  Miss  Ethel,  your  most 
faithful  and  devoted  servant,  now  and  ever, 

"  ALLANI." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 
LORD  BEAUFORT  TO  HIS  MOTHER. 

MY  DEAREST  MOTHER  : 

We  were  married  yesterday.  As  I  told  you,  Ethel 
would  not  have  a  swell  wedding,  so  we  went  to  the 
little  church  .in  Shanklin  and  stepped  off  in  real  or- 
thodox fashion.  I  am  glad  you  find  her  photograph 
so  handsome,  but  it  doesn't  half  do  her  justice. 
Alice's  little  letter  made  us  roar  with  laughter.  What 
a  dear  child  ;  I  long  to  give  her  a  good  kiss.  The 
Count  gave  Ethel  away,  and  Mrs.  Adrian  (by  the  way, 
she  is  a  jolly  party)  nearly  broke  down  at  the  cere- 
mony. Everybody  was  there — that  is  to  say,  of  the 
intimate  friends.  Brandon  was  best  man,  of  course. 
We  missed  you.  I  scarcely  expected  that  you  would 
come,  as  it  was  an  impromptu,  but  I  know  we  shall 
be  happy.  I  am  in  the  seventh  heaven  already  (in- 
terruption by  a  pair  of  arms  around  my  neck.  It  is 
bad  form,  but  I  suppose  young  wives  all  do  it). 
Ethel  sends  her  love  here,  and  adds  a  thousand 
thanks  for  your  sweet  letter.  I  knew  you'd  do  the 
handsome  thing  by  my  wife  in  the  end.  We  shall  be 
at  Beaufort  by  the  last  of  September.  How  I  hope 
Ethel  will  like  it.  Again  she  interrupts.  '  I  know  I 


Marked  "In  Haste"  353 

shall,  dear.'  (She  has  positively  been  looking  over 
my  shoulder.)  I  hope  you  won't  think  by  this  that 
we  are  frightful  spoons.  I  am  quite  like  any  other 
married  man,  precisely  the  same  as  before  marriage. 
Most  men  are  not  changed  a  bit.  Heaven  knows 
how  we  will  spend  the  rest  of  the  summer.  Ethel 
won't  yacht.  She  is  already  asserting  her  authority. 
That  is  because  I  have  married  a  woman  who  has 
money.  You  know  I  always  swore  never  to  marry 
one  without.  Any  girl  stepping  into  wealth  from  pov- 
erty would  soon  break  a  man  up  ;  but  the  best  wife 
in  the  world  for  any  man  to  have  is  a  woman  who 
has  lived  in  luxury  all  her  life.  She  knows  the  exact 
value  to  put  upon  money,  and  her  husband  may 
stand  some  show  of  getting  a  little  affection  from 
her.  Should  the  worst  ever  come  to  the  worst,  she 
could  demonstrate  that  her  happiness  was  in  his  love, 
not  in  his  purse,  and  they'd  pull  through  all  right. 
But  a  woman  who  has  never  known  even  comfort, 
bah — thinks  of  titles,  settlements — (I  would  give  Beau- 
fort to  Ethel  outright,  although  she  doesn't  want  it) 
swell  turn-outs,  balls,  and  society.  She  thinks  that 
these  things  bring  happiness,  and  looks  upon  mar- 
riage as  a  patent  safety-escape  from  poverty,  and  her 
head  is  so  turned  by  the  novelty  of  having  plenty  of 
money  that  love  is  a  secondary  consideration. 

I  am  very  glad,  however,  that  I  am  saved  from 
any  doubt  in  the  matter.  These  things  are  good  in 
theory.  Hard  cash  is  a  reality  that  is  most  agree- 
able ;  still,  if  Ethel  had  not  had  a  halfpenny,  she  would 
have  been  my  lady  all  the  same.  The  dear  thing  !  I 
must  cut  this  short,  as  we  run  up  to  London  in  an 


354  Marked  "In  Haste" 

hour.  How  is  your  neuralgia  ?  Don't  think  I  had 
forgotten  it.  Of  course,  you  are  better  ;  however,  if 
the  beastly  rain  continues,  how  can  you  expect  to  be 
quite  well  ?  Ethel  says  she  knows  a  cure  for  neuralgia, 
some  patent  American  stuff.  (Those  Americans  are 
very  fiends  for  original  patents.  The  only  man  who 
ever  got  ahead  was  Noah  in  that  Ark  business,  but 
they  swear  the  Dove  was  an  original  United  States 
invention.)  I'll  send  it  from  London.  She  knows  a 
cure  for  one  thing — the  heart-ache — bless  her.  I  am 
cured.  In  fact,  I  wouldn't  know  I  had  such  a  thing 
as  a  heart  now,  since  I'm  married.  I  hope  you'll  get 
a  parcel  I  just  posted  off,  all  right.  Ethel  has  sent 
some  diamond  earrings  to  Alice.  She  says  she  is 
quite  old  enough  to  wear  them  ;  all  the  little  girls 
do  in  America.  But  her  ladyship  isn't  a  bit  of  an 
American  except,  except  in  beauty.  Good-by,  dear, 
dearest  mother.  Think  of  having  me  all  to  yourself 
for  the  rest  of  your  lifetime,  once  I  get  home.  I 
shall  not  leave  it  again  soon,  I  can  tell  you.  Kiss 
Alice  for  both  of  us.  Just  imagine  my  arms  around 
your  dear  neck,  and  all  of  your  children  hugging 
you  just  as  if  we  were — children.  God  bless  you. 
I  will  write  from  London. 

Your  own  affectionate  son, 

FRANCIS. 
Shanklin,  z^th  June. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

ETHEL  BEAUFORT  TO  MRS.  ADRIAN. 

DEAREST  AUNTIE  : 

What  an  idea.  Tell  you  all  about  Beaufort  (of 
course,  if  you  wish  it),  and  how  I  like  my  mother- 
in-law.  I  don't  like  her,  I  love  her,  and  Alice  is 
a  perfect  little  darling.  She  is  very  funny.  Fancy 
her  asking  me  if  I  had  a  rich  American  picked 
out  for  her.  She  told  me  that  she  had  overheard 
her  governess  (an  ancient  demoiselle  Gamier) 
talking.  She  had  said  that  nothing  was  thought 
of  now  but  wealth,  and  that  when  one  had  station 
enough,  one  must  exchange  one's  good  blood  for 
American  dollars.  "  I  am  young  now,"  said  Alice 
(she  is  not  twelve  yet),  "but  I  can  be  a.  fiancee  at  once. 
I  wish  to  marry  a  miner  or  a  stockbroker.  She 
(Gamier)  says  that  their  wives  have  the  best  times." 
I  have  called  the  governess  a  "  demoiselle  Garnier." 
She  is  very  old,  straight-laced,  and  really,- 1  believe 
in  my  heart,  no  more  French  than  I  am.  But  about 
the  castle.  Shall  I  really  tell  you  minutely  ?  (How 
I  miss  you,  dear.  I  hadn't  thought  to  say  so  before, 
of  course  you  knew  it.)  This  will  be  a  guide-book 
description,  so  beware.  I  never  can  do  it  again,  so 


356  Marked  "In  Haste" 

be  sure  and  write  Uncle  Desmond  and  all  my 
friends  just  exactly  what  it's  like.  I  am  so  glad 
that  I  am  home.  Yesterday,  after  luncheon,  we  went 
over  the  house.  Oh,  it  is  so  beautiful. 

Now  imagine  you  are  here,  and  coming  to  pay  me 
a  visit.  You  walk  up  to  the  front  door,  and  you  see 
something  like  this.  Stop,  I  will  copy  the  exact  des- 
cription from  an  old  book  that  lies  on  my  table. 
Attention  !  "  Beaufort  Castle  " — (isn't  it  strange  to 
think  that  I  am  reading  about  my  own  house  from 
a  strange  book? — I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  am  looking 
uncommonly  well.  Devonshire  certainly  agrees  with 
me) — "  Beaufort  Castle  is  four  stories  in  height,  and 
the  architecture  a  model  of  the  best  workmanship 
of  the  fifteenth  century."  (This  point  is  very  clear.) 
"The  square  blocks  of  white  stone,  that  fit  so  beauti- 
fully one  into  the  other  in  the  facade,  are  alternately 
carved  with  the  bunch  of  drooping  quatrifoglia"  (a 
four-leaf  clover,  auntie,  but  it  sounds  better  in  Ital- 
ian). "  The  principal  facade  is  divided  into  three 
panels  separated  by  narrow  fluted  columns,  rising 
unbroken  to  the  third  story.  A  balcony  the  entire 
length  of  the  house  is  covered  with  flowering  vines 
and  ivy.  This  balcony  is  in  stone "  (we  walked 
there  last  evening ;  the  view  is  perfectly  lovely  all 
around — well,  you  will  see  it  later  of  course),  "as  are 
the  two  terraces  surmounting  either  tower.  They 
are  doubly  dentellated,  as  is  the  fashion  in  many  of 
the  old  Italian  houses  existing  since  the  fourteenth 
century.  In  the  centre  of  the  front  facade  is  the 
entrance  "  (the  one  that  you  will  come  in  at,  dear). 
"  The  doors  are  of  oak,  so  old  and  ponderous  that  one 


Marked  "fn  Haste."  357 

hand  alone  could  scarcely  swing  them.  The  coronet 
and  blazonry  of  the  dual  house,  Beaufort  and  Bran- 
don is  carved  in  each  door"  (the  same  that  is  stamped 
on  the  paper — how  do  you  like  it  ?).  "  The  work  is 
the  handicraft  of  Munich  master  carvers,  rare  in  its 
perfection  and  design. 

"Entering  from  the  front,  one  finds  one's  self  in  the 
principal  apartment,  a  room  of  grand  dimensions. 
It  runs  straight  across  the  entire  extent  of  the  castle, 
the  ceiling  reaching  almost  to  the  upper  terrace.  It 
is  a  marvel  of  exquisite  wood  carving.  There  are 
several  large  panels,  these  divided  into  smaller 
squares,  the  beams  supporting  the  timbers  running 
crosswise ;  carved  with  a  Greek  pattern  favorite  of 
the  time,  and  beautiful  in  its  simplicity."  (I  adore 
Greek  patterns,  don't  you  ?  And  bye  the  bye,  let 
me  thank  you  here  for  the  box.  The  dresses  are 
simply  lovely.  Latreille  has  outdone  herself.  The 
one  in  heliotrope  with  the  Byzantine  trimming  is 
most  becoming.  I  wore  it  last  night  at  dinner.  I 
think — where  was  I  ?  telling  you  about  the  house,  of 
course  ;  but  I  had  to  mention  this  fact.  It  is  so  im- 
portant.) "  In  the  centre  panel  is  an  original — a 
Madonna  with  her  child  "  (such  a  fat  little  cherub. 

I  wonder  if  I  will  ever  have ).  "  Four  other 

paintings  decorate  the  ceiling  in  the  form  of  a  four- 
leaf  clover.  These  are  all  framed  in  Venetian  carv- 
ings of  gold  and  bronzed  woods,  uniquely  and  beau- 
tifully carved. 

"  The  alternate  panels  are  without  canvasses ; 
instead,  on  the  wood,  in  different  shades  of  blue, 
from  the  deepest  lapis-lazuli  to  the  pale  sky  blue, 


358  Marked  "In  Haste" 

are  bunches  of  cyclamen  and  quatrifoglia  in  the 
hands  of  diminutive  cupids  reposing  on  clouds." 

Just  imagine  it,  auntie  !  The  effect  is  so  beautiful 
and  strange  in  contrast  with  the  gilded  Venetian  frames 
and  dark  colors  of  the  carved  wood,  it's  like  looking 
at  a  bed  of  sapphires  on  a  jewelled  disk.  But  you  will 
see  it  when  you  come.  Now  I  am  reading  again. 

"  Very  few  royal  dwellings  can  boast  so  splendid 
a  ceiling.  Two  arches  are  supported  on  either  side 
by  superb  cariatids,  and  to  the  right  is  another  grand 
drawing-room,  style  Empire"  (newly  furnished  and 
decorated  in  my  honor) ;  "  to  the  left  is  a  magnificent 
salon  corresponding  with  this,  with  rare  paintings 
and  the  same  lapis-lazuli  cupids  looking  down  from 
the  burnished  oak.  The  great  beauty  of  these 
apartments  are  some  marvellous  Gobelins,  after 
those  made  for  Catherine  de  Medicis.  The  interior 
of  the  castle  has  been  restored  and  shaped  expressly 
to  receive  this  magnificent  series  of  works  of  art. 

"  To-day  money  cannot  buy  their  equal ;  and  to  the 
racing  proclivities  of  a  Prince  of  the  blood"  (the 
Duke  of  G. — dear  Francis  told  me  his  name  ;  he  sac- 
rificed the  whole  lot  for  a  stud  of  thoroughbreds), 
"the  Lords  of  Beaufort  owe  one  of  their  greatest 
treasures " 

Now  here  is  a  bit  of  history  Francis  told  me. 
It  is  not  in  the  book,  but  it  may  interest  you.  Cath- 
erine de  Medicis  (when  her  husband,  Henry  II., 
was  killed  by  Montgomery)  so  deplored  the  loss  of 
her  lord  and  sovereign,  that  she  ordered  a  lasting 
monument  to  his  memory  in  the  shape  of  these 
Gobelins.  A  propos,  did  you  know  that  Gobelins 


Marked  "In  Haste"  359 

used  to  be  called  Arras,  Arazzi,  the  name  of  the  city 
in  Flanders  where  this  industry  originally  flourished 
in  the  sixteenth  century  ?  I  never  did. 

This  tribute  is  constructed  from  the  allegorical 
subject  of  the  story  of  Mausole  and  Artemisia. 
Catherine  ordered  a  famous  artist  of  the  time  to 
copy  the  works  of  art  from  the  Chateau  d'Annet,  and 
he  has  faithfully  reproduced  them  in  the  tapestry." 

Now  this,  Aunt  Adrian,  is  what  follows  and  is  also 
from  the  book.  No,  I'll  tell  you  myself,  it  is  more 
natural ;  you  will  prefer  my  simple  way  without  any 
Latin.  There  are  four  enormous  curtains,  or  panels 
with  side  pieces,  and  four  others  a  little  smaller  in 
size,  that  complete  the  set.  One  is  called  the  Fountain 
of  Diana.  Three  graces  support  a  basin  in  which  re- 
clines the  famous  Diana  de  Poitiers.  She  is  com- 
pletely nude,  her  arms  clasping  a  stag's  head.  At  her 
feet  lies  a  dog.  (This,  auntie,  is  so  funny.  It  says  in 
Latin  that  the  dog  is  visible,  as  though  one  could 
see  it  if  it  were  not  visible.)  It  is  an  exact  likeness 
of  the  most  celebrated  and  beautiful  woman  of  her 
time.  It  is  from  the  statue  made  by  Jean  Goujon. 

That  she  could  enslave  a  father  and  son  was  note- 
worthy ;  that  she  could  also  fascinate  the  wife  and 
mother  is  strange  ;  but  the  most  remarkable  thing 
is  this  :  The  husband  and  loyer  dead,  the  widow 
causes  the  portrait  of  his  doubly-faithful  mistress  to 
be  made  the  principal  one  in  a  quartette,  when  even 
the  three  graces  appear  but  secondary  in  beauty  and 
charm.  Their  sculptured  forms,  smaller  than  this 
goddess  of  the  bath,  are  used  to  throw  in  bolder  relief 
her  extraordinary  symmetry  and  sensuous  beauty. 


360  Marked  "In  Haste" 

Now  think  of  it,  auntie  ;  she  had  lovers  at  sixty. 
This  portrait  must  have  been  made  not  far  from  that 
period  of  her  life.  She  appears  in  the  flower  of  her 
youth  and  comeliness,  which  makes  us  doubt  the 
exactitude  of  her  age.  However,  a  woman,  I  suppose, 
best  judges  and  appreciates  a  woman's  beauty.  For 
Catherine  de  Medicis  to  find  her  king's  favorite  a 
place  in  the  lasting  tribute  she  designs  to  his  mem- 
ory— a  tribute  where  the  most  lovely  figures  are  re- 
produced, and  to  give  preference  to  that  favorite  over 
all  the  graces,  demonstrates  that  she  must  have  been 
a  wondrously  beautiful  person.  The  souvenir  so 
religiously  guarded,  and  zealously  exhibited  to  vis- 
itors at  the  Hotel  Cluny,  in  Paris,  shows  that  the 
lady's  modesty  was  not  put  to  the  test  early  or  late 
in  life.  Her  royal  lover  evidently  did  not  believe 
that  virtue,  which  has  to  be  so  strictly  guarded,  was 
not  worth  its  sentinel.  Preferring  to  run  no  risk, 
however,  he  took  his  precautions,  peculiar  precau- 
tions ;  but,  for  that  epoch,  they  seemed  necessary. 

Thanks  to  Diana's  vanity,  the  world  possesses  a 
work  of  art  in  her  picture.  Few  ideal  Venuses 
could  be  more  beautiful,  few  real  graces  more  seduc- 
tive  

How  tired  I  am  ;  but  you  asked  me  to  tell  you 
all  about  it,  and  I  have.  Francis  has  just  brought  me 
a  cup  of  tea.  Is  there  anything  more  refreshing 
than  a  cup  of  tea  ?  I  believe  my  head  aches  a  little, 
but  I  will  finish  ;  this  is  from  the  book  : 

"  Besides  the  tapestry  are  numerous  cabinets  and 
wondrous  pieces  of  furniture,  each  untold  in  value, 
with  inlaid  woods,  ivory,  or  metals,  and  carvings 


Marked  "Sn  Haste"  361 

imitated  from  Michael  Angelo  :  these  Greek  gods 
and  goddesses  might  have  been  made  yesterday  ; 
the  woods  are  worm-eaten,  and  some  of  the  ivory 
is  broken  off."  (As  I  told  Francis,  even  the  most 
frantic  bric-a-brac  hunter  would  at  once  realize  their 
value  and  genuine  antiquity.) 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  half  the  things  in  these 
wonderful  rooms,  but  I  will  try  and  tell  you  of  a  few 
more — (I  believe  I  am  a  trifle  tired) — but  I  know  you 
must  be  so  interested.  "  There  is  a  superb  chande- 
lier of  real  rock  crystal  on  a  pedestal  of  bronze  and 
cedar,  made  at  Munich,  of  course ;  but  the  real 
treasures  are  these. 

"  There  are  four  pedestals  supporting  four  statues, 
carved  by  the  great  Erasmus  Grosser,  in  1473.  They 
are  in  wood  that  has  now  the  tone  of  ivory."  (They 
are  so  life-like  that  I  expect  to  see  them  step  down 
from  their  heights  some  day  .and  join  in  an  old- 
fashioned  minuet  at  an  instant's  notice.)  "  They  are 
really  four  madmen,  or  court  jesters,  and  dressed 
in  the  costume  of  those  times.  (So  queer.) 

"  The  autograph  of  the  artist  in  quaint  lettering  at 
the  foot  of  the  statue  adds  to  their  value  and  au- 
thenticity." 

They  were  sold  in  Munich  eighty  years  ago  for  a 
mere  song.  At  that  time  valuable  works  of  art 
were  hidden  in  half  the  garrets  of  Europe.  Francis 
would  not  take  ten  thousand  pounds  for  them.  He 
has  just  come  in  and  looks  over  my  shoulder  (I  am 
not  as  tired  as  I  was).  He  has  brought  me  another 
cup  of  tea — and  has  impertinently  been  reading  my 
letter.  What  do  you  think  he  said  ?  "  Just  like  a  wo- 
16 


362  Marked  "In  Haste" 

man — writing  a  yard  of  rot ;  when  she  reads  it  she'll 
know  you  cribbed  the  whole  thing.  Just  like  a  woman, 
by  jove!  send  her  the  book."  "Just  like  a  woman  in- 
deed !  "  "  Send  her  the  book ! "  (I  am  sure  dear  aunty, 
you  would  much  prefer  I  should  tell  it  you  myself  ?) 
Just  like  a  man,  I  say,  and  his  laziness,  not  to  write. 
Francis  is  getting  royal  in  his  brevity.  It  reminds 
me  of  the  giddy  young  American  in  London,  who 
performed  through  the  telephone  to  show  it  off  for 
the  benefit  of  her  Majesty  the  Queen,  who  was  sta- 
tioned at  Windsor.  Vainly  desiring  a  surcease 
from  "Three  old  maids  of  Lee."  (Pegg  Woffing- 
ton,  Hamlet  in  the  original  A.  D.) — and  Forget-me- 
not  I  suppose,  the  line  was  drawn  after  the  tenth 
verse  of  "Nanie,  wilt  thou  gang  awa'  wi  me."  Her 
Majesty  was  asked,  "  how  she  liked  it."  The  Em- 
press of  India  replied  :  "  Cut  the  wire." 
Your  loving  niece, 

ETHEL  BEAUFORT. 

P.  S.  Don't  fail  us  for  All-Hallow-Eve.  Such  do- 
ings, such  a  ball !  Francis  is  still  superstitious  (so 
like  a  man),  and  it  will  be  just  two  years  ago  that 
night  since  first  we  met.  I  hope  this  will  reach  you 
immediately.  I  shall  send  it  to  the  old  address.  Do 
write  soon.  E. 

P.  P.  S.  How  very  funny!  I  have  put  "  In  Haste  " 
on  the  envelope  quite  by  accident.  Of  course  you 
will  get  the  letter  sooner. — Does  it  not  seem  strange 
to  sign  myself  Ethel  Beaufort  ? 

THE    END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-Series  444 


A     000  052  935    4 


